


made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

by diasterisms



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/diasterisms
Summary: The First Order does not exist, what is dead stays dead, and they grow up together at Luke's Jedi Academy.Or: The one where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.(Then again, it's Ben and Rey, so maybe things hurta little.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReyloRobyn2011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyloRobyn2011/gifts).



> This is my CaP holiday exchange fic for the beautiful and fabulous Robyn, whose prompt was: **Jedi Academy AU, Ben and Rey grow up together and are best friends, fall in love (smut please!)** I adore you so much and I'm so thrilled to have the chance to write this for you. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, babe! Thanks for everything <3

He's twenty-nine and she's, like, _so_ in love, breathless, always one crooked half-smile away from jumping out of her own skin whenever he's around, but she knows he thinks she's just some stupid _kid_ and, yeah, there it is, the slow, incredulous blink of long, sooty lashes, the vaguely annoyed downward turn of his mouth as he glances at her over his shoulder beneath the wispy seafoam roof of the marsh-grubber trees.

 

"Would you care to reiterate," Ben drawls, "what it is that you wish to _do,_ exactly?"

 

_Reiterate_ means _to repeat,_ although Rey has no idea why he doesn't just say _that_ or opt for the less eloquent but infinitely more cost-effective _You want to fucking_ _ **what**_ that's written all over his face. Ben talks like he swallowed a holo-library when he was younger and is doomed to spend the rest of his life burping up words that Rey sometimes has to look up on her datapad, and she hates that she finds it so endearing.

 

"Vid a stillsail," she repeats— no, _reiterates—_ as she trails him through the Verdant Swamp, clawthorns digging hook-shaped barbs into the soles of her boots and tall, lacy feather ferns brushing against her sleeves. "For Rose's birthday. She's always wanted to see one."

 

"I was hoping it wouldn't sound quite as ridiculous the second time around," Ben mutters. "Alas."

 

He turns away and Rey sticks her tongue out at him. He's planet-bound for a month after disobeying orders on his last mission and nearly getting himself and four other Jedi Knights slaughtered by the Hutt Cartel; only a few days into his sentence, he's resentful and stir-crazy, which means he's in an even pricklier mood than usual, and Luke certainly hasn't helped matters by sending him on this mundane errand to replenish the temple's dwindling supply of jogan fruit with a lowly apprentice. Rey's made allowances for this and she's more than equipped to take Ben's surliness in stride after dealing with it for more than a decade, but sometimes— _sometimes he's really such an ass._

 

"I _know_ you're sticking your tongue out at me," he mildly chides from up ahead. "Stop it."

 

She complies, chastened for a grand total of two minutes before she puts on a burst of speed and scrambles to block his path. He doesn't stop and so she walks backwards, grinning irrepressibly up at his sullen, handsome face. "You'll come with me, then? I'm leaving next week after Rose heads for the Boonta scrapyard— she's returning the night of her birthday, and I ought to be back with the video by then—"

 

"Rey," Ben says with a patience he so very obviously does _not_ feel, "where are stillsails rumored to be located?"

 

"The Stratos Distribution."

 

"And where is the Stratos Distribution?"

 

"In the Unknown Regions."

 

"It occurs to me that you should have seen the problem with that by now."

 

"One day and six hours from Yavin 4 to the Distribution, two days to find a stillsail and vid it— maybe less, if we get lucky— and another two days to come back with the Masters none the wiser because they'll all be at the Ossus conclave—" Rey stops short as her spine hits a solid pillar of bark. Ben's changed direction without her noticing and now he's got her cornered up against one of the marsh-grubbers, her heart racing as she's enfolded in the warmth that radiates off his broad frame and the scent of him, all woodsy soap and spice-tinged aftershave underscored by the faint musk of sweat, the dampness of moss, and the smoke from the cooking fire they'd lit earlier. It's always humid on Yavin 4, especially in the swamplands, and they've been trekking for hours— underneath the trappings of civilization, he smells like heat and like something primeval, and her mouth goes dry.

 

"It takes," Ben's low voice rumbles, almost in her ear, and, _stars,_ she feels like she's going to explode, "two days and twelve hours to travel from the Outer Rim to the Unknown Regions and— owing to the latter's distinct lack of charted hyperspace routes— four days to cross over from the opposite end."

 

"Not if—" Rey's words come out just the _slightest_ bit too husky. Clearing her throat, she tries again. "Not if we take the _Falcon."_

 

He scowls. "That heap of garbage won't last two junctions. She'll fall apart before we even reach the Hydian Way."

 

Rey can't help feeling offended on the _Falcon'_ s behalf. "Your ship is a _legend,_ she made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs—" Ben gets that look on his face like he's about to correct her on something, but he grits his teeth against it and she plows ahead— "and she'll cut our travel time in half. Trust me on this."

 

"She's not my ship."

 

"Han gave her to you—"

 

" _Foisted_ her off on me in a last-ditch attempt to persuade my mother to take him back—"

 

"Ben." She slides her hands up between their bodies, resting her palms flat on his chest. In all honesty, she doesn't really know why she does it, it's just that he's getting angry and she's always been able to soothe him with physical contact, but this time it feels different. Their gazes meet and hold and his heartbeat flutters at her fingertips and there's this odd little lurch in the currents of the Force as she's once again on the receiving end of the strangely intense yet somehow also unreadable look that he's been giving her more and more this past year. "I'm trying to do something nice for Rose _and_ get you out of here for a while. Why are you making it so difficult?"

 

He plants his large hands on the tree trunk, bracketing her shoulders in a way that effectively cages her in, and her fingers clutch at the front of his dark-colored tunic in a response that's automatic, that she couldn't have stopped even if she'd tried. The frustration drains from his face, replaced by something softer as his brown eyes drift to... her jaw?

 

_Why is he looking there, do I have something on my face—_

 

Rey licks her lips, a nervous mannerism. There's a sharp intake of breath from Ben, so quiet and so quick that it would never have registered if her entire universe hadn't been narrowed down to him and him alone.

 

"So." He tips his chin up as if the marsh-grubber's pale leaves have suddenly become a source of endless fascination. "Why is our illustrious mechanic going to the Boonta scrapyard? Rather odd choice for a birthday getaway."

 

"Rose wants to shop for spare parts on the cheap. The generating station's reactor components are on their last legs."

 

"The _entire temple_ is on its last legs. I'll never understand why Uncle Luke decided to resurrect the Jedi Order on this dirtball."

 

"So you've been telling me for the past thirteen years," Rey teases.

 

Ben's still peering up at the branches over their heads, but the ghost of a smile plays along the corner of his mouth. "Has it already been thirteen years?"

 

"Almost fourteen," she says. "I'll be twenty in a few months." She can't remember _her_ birthday, of course, she measures her age with the passing of each standard year, and it's with no small amount of bravado that she adds that last bit. She's not a kid anymore and, _Maker,_ she'd give anything for him to stop treating her like one.

 

Ben makes a noncommittal sound low in the back of his throat and then he steps away from her. Rey fights the _awful_ little shiver that leaches into the very marrow of her bones— how could this air between them have gone so cold with the abrupt distance, the loss of nearness? Her stomach hurts with it.

 

Or maybe she's just hungry. Yeah.

 

"Come on," he says, hefting the sack of jogan fruit, still three-quarters empty, over one shoulder. "Let's fill this up so we can start heading back. I can think of few things worse than letting the sun go down on us in these jungles."

 

"You still haven't answered my question," she reminds him as they continue walking, scanning the area for more of the white-striped purple delicacies. "Are you coming with me, can I take the _Falcon_ if you aren't—"

 

"' _May_ I take the _Falcon,'"_ he firmly corrects.

 

"What're you asking me for, she's _your_ ship," Rey says cheerfully. She couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried; it would've been akin to holding back a sneeze.

 

Ben waves a hand, telekinetically coaxing several fruits from their branches and into the sack. "I've just remembered I'm going to be busy on that day," he tells her with a straight face.

 

She wrinkles her nose. "Oh, all right, I'm sorry. No more picking on you."

 

"In that case..." He _actually_ pauses for effect. Like a great big _idiot._ "I'll think about it."

 

_"Ben,"_ Rey starts to whine, but then he reaches out to tweak her scrunched-up nose.

 

"None of that now." He's smirking but his brown eyes are warm as they peer down at her and there's a lightness to his Force signature that hadn't been there for most of their trek. "You'll be _twenty in a few months,_ remember? Time to stop being a brat, I'm afraid."

 

And then he lets go of her nose and walks away— _saunters,_ almost, and Rey is— well, she's a bit cross but she's also _happy,_ for some reason. _"E chu ta!"_ she yells at his back, the foulest curse she knows, and his broad shoulders shake in laughter.

 

_"Bargon yanah coto da eetha, pateesa,"_ he replies without turning around, his Huttese smoky and languorous and accented, and, just like that, she's _blushing,_ at a loss for words, unable to do anything else but follow him, her gaze fixed on his long, lean figure silhouetted against the sunlight that shimmers through the mists of the swamp.

 

*

 

Luke Skywalker's Jedi Praxeum is located on the Ersham Ridge, surrounded by thick rainforests. The colossal stone ziggurat used to be the headquarters of the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil War, and now it's where Force-sensitives from all corners of the galaxy have gathered to anchor themselves in the way of the light, learning how to use their abilities for only the most noble of purposes, and—

 

_"I— am— going— to—_ murder— _you!"_

 

That's the first thing Rey hears once she and Ben have crossed the river separating the Great Temple's landing pad from the dense treeline. It's followed by a laughing young man with thick black hair rushing up to them and hiding behind Rey even though he looms over her by a good several inches.

 

"Save me, apprentice!" cries Ganner Rhysode, blue eyes sparkling with mirth as what Rey can only describe as an _apparition_ stalks over to them, nigh incandescent with rage. The upper half of Eryl Besa's petite frame is _covered_ in orange basa root flour, matting her short, spiky red hair and obscuring most of her face save for her emerald green eyes. She looks like a carrot— if carrots could clutch a jug of blue milk in one hand while the other shakes a threatening fist, that is.

 

"What happened?" Rey asks, trying to curb a grin at this latest volley in the ongoing prank war between Ben's fellow Jedi Knights.

 

"I was levitating a sack of flour out of the pantry when _someone,"_ Eryl replies in a pointed tone of voice, "thought it would be absolutely _hilarious_ to make the whole thing explode over my head!"

 

"I don't _think_ it's hilarious," Ganner protests, stepping out from behind Rey. "It _is_ hilarious—"

 

Eryl hurls a jugful of blue milk at him. Rey's standing near enough that she would've gotten caught in the crossfire, but Ben suddenly places himself between her and Ganner, shoving her further back with one heavy hand, and she can only watch in horror as blue milk splashes all over the front of his tunic. It's not a lot compared to Ganner, who is completely _drenched_ from the waist up, but Ben's expression is thunderous.

 

"Are we quite done being children?" he asks icily in the awkward silence that ensues.

 

Eryl lowers the hand holding the now empty jug, opening her mouth to speak. Before she can say anything, though, Ben thrusts the sack of jogan fruit into Rey's arms and storms off, disappearing into the mouth of the temple with three pairs of eyes fixed on his retreating back.

 

"What's Solo's problem?" Ganner complains, wringing blue milk out of his sleeves. "He nearly got us all killed last mission, but do you see _us_ being mad at him?"

 

"I think he's more annoyed that I almost watered his desert flower," Eryl says wryly, and Rey's heart, like, _slams_ in her chest.

 

"That's— I'm not—" she sputters.

 

Eryl's free hand flicks up in a dismissive wave. "Bad joke, kid. Don't worry about it."

 

"How _did_ he nearly get you all killed last mission, anyway?" Rey grunts, figuring that she might as well change the subject _and_ satisfy her curiosity in one go. She only knows the broad shape of it— the Cartel had taken a Republic emissary hostage after talks fell through and the Jedi Knights, led by Master Tionne Solusar, had gone to Nar Shaddaa to negotiate for his freedom. They'd all made it back in one piece, including the hostage, but it was apparently no thanks to Ben.

 

"You know how Grakkus the Hutt has twelve cybernetic legs?" Ganner prompts, waiting for Rey to nod before he continues, "Well, he only has seven now. Solo hacked five of them off."

 

"What?" Rey blinks. _"Why?"_

 

"The Hutts have long memories," says Eryl. "Grakkus wouldn't stop taking the piss on Solo after the introductions, then finally he, uh—" She clears her throat— "He made some indecent remarks about Senator Organa. Solo drew his lightsaber and all hell broke loose."

 

*

 

After entrusting the sack of jogan fruit to the kitchen droids, Rey hurries up the ancient stone staircase. She wants to console Ben, to bother him and cajole him into smiling again, and she also kind of maybe wants to hug him for being the sort of hotheaded grump who'd dismember a crime lord to defend his amazing mother's honor.

 

The living quarters are on the third level, with Ben's room the furthest down the hall in the wing reserved for the Knights. She barges in without a second thought, which, _kriff,_ why is she like this, of _course_ he'd be changing out of his stained clothes—

 

Rey turns as red as an acid-beet at the same time that her brain just— _shuts down._ Ben's tossed the milk-soaked shirt into the hamper and is holding a clean one in his hands, meaning that he is very much _shirtless_ and _she_ is probably going to expire on the spot. He's all smooth, pale skin and powerful muscles gleaming in the afternoon sunlight that streams in through the windows, casting a burnished gloss over massive shoulders, a broad chest, sculpted arms, and tautly defined abs. And yet she finds herself appreciating the little details, too— the way the ends of his dark hair curl at his neck, the elegant slash of collarbones—

 

— The quizzical eyebrow he's raising at her as she stands there in his doorway gaping like an _idiot—_

 

"May I help you?" Ben asks her, and Rey thinks about all the ways she wishes he would _help_ and it's credit to her Jedi training alone that she doesn't immediately go weak at the knees.

 

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," she manages to say and it's a total _lie._ She wants to curl up on his pecs and fall asleep like a tooka-cat. Dangle from his bicep on a swath of fabric while doing her aerial stretches. Accidentally splash basa root flour and blue milk all over him so that, _oh, Ben, I'm so sorry, let me just clean that up... with my tongue..._

 

Although, come to think of it, flour and milk would make for a nasty combo and isn't that strange, when it's basically the foundation for cake—

 

"It was just blue milk," Ben says as he puts on the clean shirt, hiding his torso from view and effectively breaking Rey's heart. "I believe I shall survive."

 

"Okay," she squeaks. Then she runs from his room, her cheeks still burning. Feed her to the fishes of Naboo, she is so _fucked._

 

*

 

The new Jedi Order are allowed to love. Luke had decided this right from the start— a clean break from the old constraints that had led in part to his father's fall to the dark side. Rey doesn't know how or when she fell in love with Ben Solo; she sometimes thinks it's something that's always been inside her, something that had been waiting to bloom ever since the day they met.

 

"How do you know it's love?" Finn asks later that night as the two of them lie back on the flattened roof of the ziggurat, gazing up at the stars. Like Rey, he doesn't have a family— a remnant of Imperial fanatics stole him from his village when he was an infant in a bid to create another army of stormtroopers. When the Republic destroyed the burgeoning threat for good, Finn was discovered to be Force-sensitive and, like Rey, he found a home on Yavin 4.

 

"I just know," she responds with a shrug. "The way I know how to breathe and how to hold a lightsaber. The way I know the Force."

 

Finn whistles, long and low in the dark. "That's mental."

 

"Yeah, _mental'_ s probably right," Rey concedes with a sigh. Aside from being ten years older than she is, Ben comes from an illustrious family while _she_ is— nothing. An orphan whose parents were junk traders, who sold her to Unkar Plutt for booze.

 

"I know what you're thinking," her best friend rushes to say, "and it's not _that._ If Solo's the type of guy to care about stuff like _that,_ then he doesn't deserve you. It's more of... well..." Finn gestures helplessly at the silver-hued constellations above them. "He's just such a cranky asshole, Rey."

 

"Who's a cranky asshole?" a female voice pipes up from somewhere off to Rey's left. Rose Tico's round, olive-skinned face is poking out from the open hatch, engine grease smeared on her cheek. "You better not be talking about me."

 

"Of course not, you're a regular delight," Finn quips sarcastically. "I really like the way you tell me to get the hell out of your generating station on a regular basis."

 

Rose snorts, climbing out onto the roof and lying down beside Rey. "The generating station's _literally_ two kilometers from the temple, I don't know why you hang out there all the time when you should be, like, lifting rocks or something." As Finn sputters to defend himself, Rose grins at Rey. "So, if it's not me, I guess the cranky asshole you're talking about is Solo."

 

"Kind of, yeah," Rey says.

 

Rose shakes her head. "The _Lore Seeker_ was practically torn to shreds when Master Tionne and the Knights returned from Nar Shaddaa. They must've limped her through hyperspace— I'm honestly amazed she didn't blow up."

 

"Do you need help fixing her up?" Rey loves working on ships, and she rarely gets the chance to amidst all her lessons.

 

"Sure. Come to the hangar tomorrow after lunch." Rose's attention snaps back to Finn. "So when are _you_ going to be a Jedi Knight?"

 

"Next year, Tico, what's it to you?" Finn shoots back.

 

Rey closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the fresh evening breeze and the familiar bickering of her friends. She can figure out what to do about her Ben situation some other time— for now, there's Finn and there's Rose, there's the solid stone of her home below her and a starry ceiling over her head, and there's Yavin 4, all silver and dark green in the radiant night, and all is right in the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Marsh-grubber tree](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Marsh-grubber_tree).
> 
> [Stillsail](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Stillsail).
> 
> [Verdant Swamp](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Verdant_Swamp).
> 
> [Clawthorn](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Clawthorn).
> 
> [Feather fern](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Feather_fern).
> 
> [The Hutt Cartel](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Hutt_Cartel).
> 
> [Jogan fruit](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jogan_fruit).
> 
> [The Boonta scrapyard](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Boonta_scrapyard).
> 
> [The Stratos Distribution](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Stratos_Distribution).
> 
> [Ossus](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ossus/Legends).
> 
> [The Hydian Way](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Hydian_Way/Legends).
> 
>  **Bargon yanah coto da eetha** is Huttese for "You're the best," while **E chu ta!** is an untranslatably rude expression.
> 
> [Pateesa](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Pateesa_%28phrase%29).
> 
> [Luke Skywalker's Jedi Praxeum](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Jedi_Praxeum).
> 
> [Ersham Ridge](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ersham_Ridge).
> 
> [Ganner Rhysode](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ganner_Rhysode).
> 
> [Eryl Besa](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Eryl_Besa).
> 
> [Basa root flour](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Basa_root_flour).
> 
> [Blue milk](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Blue_milk/Legends).
> 
> [Tionne Solusar](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tionne_Solusar).
> 
> [Nar Shaddaa](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Nar_Shaddaa/Legends).
> 
> [Grakkus the Hutt](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Grakkus_Jahibakti_Tingi).
> 
> [Acid-beet](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Acid-beet).
> 
> [Tooka](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Tooka).
> 
> [The Lore Seeker](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Lore_Seeker).


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, bookmarked, left kudos, and/or commented on the first chapter a thousand years ago xD Apologies for the very long wait, as I was busy with work and travel and my other longer-running WIP, but I've finally gotten back into the groove with this story and the next chapter is coming soon! <3
> 
> P.S. This was originally posted anonymously so I wasn't able to say it then, but, as some of you have noticed, this is an AU of my [Sword of the Jedi](https://archiveofourown.org/series/497407) AU. For those who haven't read it and would like a more detailed backstory of how Ben and Rey met, please refer to [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5712727) of the first part of the series.

It's not that Rey  _doesn't_ like sparring— on the contrary, there's nothing she loves more than beating the crap out of her friends. Nothing, that is, except for Ben, and  _he's_ the reason she's decidedly not in the mood to spar the day after she tells him about her plan to vid a stillsail.

 

See, sparring's great and all,  _but—_ when the object of your erstwhile affections is all the way on the other side of the courtyard and he's not even bothering to so much as  _glance_ in your general direction because he's too busy talking to Alema Rar— well, then, sparring downright  _sucks._

 

"Rey!" Bazel Warv grunts in alarm through a porcine snout and curved tusks. While it's difficult for Ramoans to enunciate Basic syllables, Bazel perseveres in his earnest, plodding manner as he rushes to where Rey's landed flat on her butt on the grass. "Are you all right?"

 

She'd tripped on a patch of uneven soil because Alema had laughed at something Ben said— but Ben's jokes are  _terrible_ and the only person who ever laughs at them is  _Rey_ and who does Alema think she is—

 

Ben's head whips around sharply at Bazel's cry. Embarrassed, Rey springs to her feet and launches herself at her sparring partner once more. There's a brief, shattering conflagration of sparks as Bazel's orange lightsaber intersects with the silvery white beam of Rey's saberstaff and then, in response to some unspoken signal, the two apprentices spring away from each other, breaking the lock only to meet again in a series of fast-paced strikes that sends them waltzing up and down the length of the courtyard and back into the frenetic stream of other apprentices engaged in their own respective duels, the grassy courtyard lit up by the blink of plasma loops underneath the sphere of Yavin Prime, which gleams a pale coral in the late morning, set against a clear blue sky.

 

At the periphery of her vision, Rey sees Ben resume his conversation with Alema, a fact that has her bashing her staff against Bazel's saber with more force than is strictly necessary. It's  _not_ Alema's fault that she's drop-dead gorgeous even by the standards of the Twi'lek species that is already considered one of the most beautiful in the galaxy, but— well— maybe Rey  _wants_ it to be her fault. Just a little bit.

 

Eventually, Cilghal— the Jedi Master from Dac who's been overseeing the session, calling out encouragement and gentle critique— declares an end to the morning class. Rey's pushed herself harder than usual and so, as the other apprentices filter into the temple for lunch, she extinguishes her saberstaff, tells Finn to go on ahead, and flops onto her back on the grass, heart pounding so hard it hurts, sweat soaking through her robes. She hears Alema laugh again— whether it's at something else Ben said or at  _her,_ she doesn't know— and she closes her eyes.

 

Sparring really  _does_ suck.

 

She feels Ben's Force signature draw near before the daylight piercing her shut lids is blocked out by a wide-shouldered frame. Her eyes flutter open and he's staring down at her, his dark hair golden at the edges against the sun, his features sharp and solemn, and her already ragged breathing catches in her throat because he's  _just—_ he's  _so—_

 

"Has she fainted?" Alema asks in a bored tone from somewhere off to the left.

 

"No." Ben smirks, his gaze never leaving Rey's face even as he answers the Rutian Twi'lek's question. "I think she's decided to camp out here for the day."

 

"Oh, fuck off," Rey mutters.

 

He raises an eyebrow at her vehemence but says nothing, extending a hand to help her to her feet. She takes it automatically, without thinking, because she's so stupid and so hopeless when it comes to him. Their fingers lace together and he hauls her up off the grass, and it feels— like  _flying,_ the momentary rush of air and the weightlessness and his hand lifting her out of gravity's pull, like she's his satellite and he's her anchor—

 

"Looks like you're  _both_ camping out here for the day," Alema quips from somewhere very far off, and that's how Rey realizes that she and Ben have been standing toe-to-toe for the past several seconds, just  _looking_ at each other.

 

Ben frowns, taking a couple of steps back even though Rey's hand remains loosely clasped in his. "As a wise Jedi once said— 'Oh, fuck off,'" he throws her words at Alema, who snickers like she's enjoying some private joke, all smooth sapphire skin and willowy curves as she makes her way to the temple, the ends of her sleek lekku bobbing gracefully with every sensual yet effortless step until she vanishes from sight. Covered as she is in dirt and grass stains, scraggly strands of mussed hair plastered to her forehead, Rey feels about as comparatively attractive as a happabore.

 

There's a shock of warmth and static as Ben's fingers brush against her cheek. She realizes with a start that he's tucking her hair behind her ear. "You fought well today," he murmurs. "Ataru serves you far better than Soresu ever did."

 

So he  _has_ noticed that she's switched forms. The knowledge of that is like something precious, blooming within her chest, secret and hopeful all at once. But resentment and insecurity have dug their thorns deep into Rey, sharpening her tongue. "Oh, you saw?" she huffs. "I thought you had your hands full."

 

His brow wrinkles in confusion and she regrets everything almost immediately. "Of course I saw. I was right here."

 

Rey's seized by a frankly  _incredible_ wave of guilt. She has no claim on Ben; it's no business of hers if Alema flirts with him and he reciprocates— and who wouldn't, honestly? "Sorry," she says, peering up at him, channeling all the sincerity she can muster into her gaze and into that one single word, to make up for the lie that's about to come. "It's the heat. And I'm tired."

 

Ben relaxes. "And hungry, no doubt."

 

Rey opens her mouth to protest, but her stomach chooses  _that_ moment to emit a convenient growl. Ben laughs, low and raspy and soft, sweeter than any music. "Let's get you fed, then," he says, shaking his head in amusement.

 

They're halfway to the ziggurat's main doors when it hits her that he's still holding her hand. She can't breathe, doesn't dare to so much as twitch her fingers, sick with the fear that he'll let go if it's called to his attention. He's holding her hand like it's the most natural thing to do and she shamelessly wants this moment to never end, and— when he pauses at the threshold of the entrance hall, glancing down at the bridged space between them— her stomach, like,  _clenches_ with anxiety—

 

Ben is smiling when he looks back up at her. It's a small, hesitant smile, little more than a vague upward turn at the corner of his lush mouth, but his brown eyes are so very warm and content. He's in a good mood compared to yesterday, and her nasty, treacherous inner voice is just starting to wonder if it has something to do with Alema when he suddenly tells her, "I'm looking forward to our excursion."

 

_"Not so loud!"_ Rey shushes him, her gaze darting wildly from one end of their surroundings to the other. Once she's satisfied that they're alone in the entrance hall, she leans forward, all eagerness. "You're really coming with me? We can take the  _Falcon?"_

 

He nods. "I've been thinking about it and you were right, it might do me some good to get out of here for a bit— get out of my own head, as it were. In any case, you need someone to keep you from getting into any trouble—"

 

She  _launches_ herself at him, wrapping her arms around that long, broad torso and holding on tight, burying her face in his shirtfront, too happy— too  _excited—_ to care that she's drenched in sweat and filthy and far from smelling like roses. Anyway, Ben doesn't seem to mind— he returns her embrace, one hand pressed to the small of her back, the other drifting... perhaps a  _little_ lower than is decent, and it robs her of breath again, that big hand sliding down her backside, massive enough that she wonders if he'll be able to cup her in one palm— maybe he  _can,_ maybe when her body instinctively shifts against his so his hand slips lower it's because there's a part of her that wants to find out—

 

He abruptly pulls away, the look on his face  _enigmatic,_ to say the least. Like shuttered windows, or a string of dense code that she can't parse. "We should go," he says gruffly, not quite meeting her eyes and already starting to move down the corridor, towards the mess hall. "That disgusting squill liver salad you like is always the first to run out and you'll be cranky the whole day if you don't get any."

 

Rey's head is swirling with a potent cloud of nerves and hormones, but she forces herself to recover at lightning speed. "Squill liver salad is  _not_ disgusting," she argues as she hurries to catch up to his brisk pace, "you're the only one who can't appreciate  _texture—"_

 

They fall back into their usual bickering and, amidst the raised voices and the childish insults and the agitated gestures, Rey finds herself thinking that Ben seems...  _relieved._

 

*

 

By the following day she's more or less got the whole plan figured out. Once all the Masters have left for Ossus, Ben will give it a respectable amount of time before taking the  _Falcon_ for a spin over Yavin 4 because  _she hasn't flown in a while and I need to make sure her systems are in working order, what's it to you, Artoo?_ He'll stash the ship somewhere in the jungle and return to the Praxeum on foot, saying he'd been in the mood to walk if anyone asks— although, given Ben's reputation for surliness, Rey  _highly_ doubts that anyone's going to ask. The next morning, the two of them will set out on a hike to Borundi Peak because  _Rey thinks installing a lava crystal or two would be just the thing to optimize her saberstaff, we'll be back in five days, don't wait up._ Then they'll retrieve the  _Falcon_ and it's off to the Unknown Regions, off to see the stillsails.

 

It's totally foolproof, especially since the Ossus conclave is projected to last more than a week and, as such, classes are on hold and the only ones in charge of the temple will be the Knights. Rey can't wait— aside from being able to give Rose the best birthday present  _ever,_ she's also going  _off-world,_ which has been a rare occurrence these past thirteen years.

 

And she's going with  _Ben._

 

This is normally the type of adventure that Rey would also drag Finn along for, but he'd told her yesterday during lunch that Luke had given him clearance to accompany Rose to the Boonta scrapyard  _because she needs someone to keep her from getting into trouble,_ he'd grumbled, almost exactly the same words Ben had used, and Rey had laughed, her flicker of hurt at not being invited quick to fade. She'd have had to say no, anyway, and, besides, she has no desire to play third wheel to— to  _whatever_ Finn and Rose have going on.

 

"I mean, they fight all the time," Rey tells Ben as he walks her to the Grand Audience Chamber for her afternoon class with Luke. "But they're also always in each other's space?"

 

Ben snorts. "They sound like my parents."

 

Rey hesitates. And then— "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

 

He shrugs. "It depends, I suppose."

 

"On what?"

 

He appears to mull it over until they reach the top of the staircase leading to the fourth level of the ziggurat. "On whether they can strike a balance between the things that are worth fighting about and the things that are worth fighting for."

 

He says it so quietly, so  _earnestly,_ that Rey almost swoons. She grins instead, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. "You're a regular poet, Ben Solo."

 

"I try," is his dry response.

 

Another thought occurs to her, one that she hadn't considered in the busyness of hashing out their plan and dissecting Finn and Rose's bewildering dynamic as they climbed the stairs from the mess hall. "Wait— where are  _you_ off to?"

 

"The Archives."

 

"That's all the way down in the basement," Rey points out, confused. "You didn't need to walk with me to the top floor."

 

"I'd have  _told_ you where I was going when you  _waylaid_ me after lunch, but you wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise," Ben says defensively. "I'll see you later. Have a good class."

 

But he doesn't leave. At least, not right away. They stare at each other and it feels like there's something  _missing_ from this moment, something that needs to be done, the air around them heavy with expectation, and Rey has no idea what it is but she knows that she needs him  _closer_ for it, and she—

 

She looks down at her feet, suddenly shy. "Thanks," she mumbles. "Have a good... um, archiving, or whatever."

 

Ben laughs as he finally heads down the stairs and, okay,  _wow,_ that's three times in just as many days that he's laughed in her presence, starting from their trek through the swamp. Either he's lightening up, or she's getting funnier.

 

*

 

Rey's the last apprentice to troop into the Grand Audience Chamber, squeezing in next to Finn and assuming the standard meditation pose along with everyone else on the stone floor.

 

The red-haired girl to Rey's left smiles in greeting, a teasing sparkle in her brown eyes. "What were you and Knight Solo talking about, all secret-like, on the way up here?" asks Jysella Horn.

 

Finn's head swivels to Rey like a kriffing guided  _missile,_ and— well, she can hardly confess to gossiping about him and Rose, and she'd much rather tell her friends about her plan once it's over and done with, to avoid getting jinxed— so she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. "Holobooks."

 

"Holobooks," Finn echoes dubiously.

 

"Yes, I love reading," Rey says firmly.

 

From where he is seated in meditation pose facing the gathering, Luke Skywalker clears his throat. "Now that we're all here," he says in a mild tone of voice that nevertheless succeeds in making Rey cringe, "I'd like everyone to focus on this afternoon's lesson. We'll be meditating with holocrons,  _which,"_ he imperturbably stresses over those apprentices who don't quite manage to stifle their groans, "is an important step in your journey to knighthood— building on the knowledge imparted to you by those who came before. Today, however, we're going to do something a little different; I have brought an assortment of various holocrons, and  _you_ will be the ones to determine which of them to individually peruse— by reaching out with your senses. If you do it right, the Force will show you which holocron you most need to learn from at this stage in your training."

 

He beams at his students with all the pride of a teacher who has stumbled upon a surefire method of enlivening the classroom.

 

They all look back at him skeptically.

 

Luke sighs. "Tough crowd." He waves a hand and, from a wooden crate beside him, several palm-sized, crystal-lattice devices float into the air. "Have at it, then."

 

*

 

The Force has always been Rey's ally. Even back when she was fighting to survive in the Jakku desert, there was something inside her that was dormant yet restless, intangible yet  _there._ That nameless something had pointed her to the most valuable scrap hidden away in the bellies of all those dead ships, had helped her pick up languages with ease, had gifted her with a swiftness and a talent for the quarterstaff that was, according to the other scavengers,  _unnatural_ in a child her age.

 

That something had been a beacon, calling out to Luke and Ben over the sandy dunes as they searched the Western Reaches for the next generation of Jedi.

 

That something, Luke had told her, was the Force.

 

And now, thirteen years later, it is the Force that summons a holocron into Rey's waiting hand. She inspects it eagerly and is puzzled by its shape— most Jedi holocrons are cubes, but this one is pyramidal, all silver metalwork and black glass. She signals Luke over and he nods upon seeing the device in her palm.

 

"I had a feeling this would be the one that called to you today," he says. "The gatekeeper of this holocron was a most unorthodox Jedi, with a checkered history in the old Order. He did what had to be done and, as a result, he grew less entrenched in the light compared to others. But he was never part of the dark— simply deeper in the shadows."

 

"What does that have to do with me?" Rey whispers, fascinated.

 

"Well, he was also an Ataru practitioner, so maybe there's a training lesson in there somewhere," Luke quips, his suddenly casual tone dismantling the solemnity of the moment.

 

Rey scowls at him. His weathered features break out into a cheeky grin and he leaves her to it, walking away to observe how the other apprentices are faring.

 

"All right." Rey squints down at the device. "Let's see what you've got."

 

She taps into the Force once more, trawling for a connection to the energy nestled inside the holocron, the rest of her surroundings gradually fading away as she hits her stride in the meditation trance. And after a while it  _opens_ for her, unleashing a beam of silvery light that soon tapers into the image of a tall man with skin the color of oak. A yellow stripe runs across his face, underlining his piercing dark eyes, and there's a streak of yellow at his temple, too, partially obscured by his long black hair that's gathered into several shaggy braids.

 

_Qukuuf,_ Rey realizes. The clan markings of the Kiffar in the Azurbani system.

 

The gatekeeper stirs.  _"I am Jedi Master Quinlan Vos,"_ he announces, and the lesson begins. 

 

*

 

It turns out that Luke had been right and the holocron  _does_ contain a guide to Form IV. Quinlan muses at length on the nature and philosophy of Ataru and demonstrates several techniques, such as the Hawk-Bat Swoop and the Saber Swarm, with his lightsaber blazing Adegan green. Rey watches intently, determined to put this knowledge to practical use as soon as possible.

 

After the last technique, the image of Quinlan flickers to indicate the start of a new recording. His demeanor is much more somber now. He talks about Order 66 and about his vision of Kashyyyk burning in the Trandoshan onslaught.  _"Maybe Gumbaeki can get his people up into the mountains. Find caves. Hide,"_ he says.  _"Not my destiny to stop that. Not my destiny to stop the Sith. My mission is to stop Faie, buy some time for Gumbaeki and his village. My path is clear now. The Force is all around me and in me. I'm centered and at peace. Except for one thing."_

 

There's a pause as Quinlan stares off into the distance, haunted by something Rey can't see. When he resumes speaking, it's in a voice that's lower and more strained.  _"In all the time Khaleen and I have been together, I never told her how I felt about her. I just assumed she knew. Like I knew. I keep forgetting she's not a Jedi... that sometimes feelings need to be_ _ said, put into words. _ _ Before I die, Khaleen—"  _ The name cracks in his throat, obviously so dear, so cherished—  _ "just so you know... _ _ I love you, Khaleen." _

 

The recording ends. The silvery glow winks out and Rey returns to the world, to the stone walls of the Grand Audience Chamber and the movements and voices of Luke and her fellow apprentices, and for several long moments all she can do is sit there, staring at the deactivated holocron in her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Alema Rar](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Alema_Rar).
> 
> [Bazel Warv](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bazel_Warv).
> 
> [Ramoan](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ramoan).
> 
> [Rutian Twi'lek](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Rutian/Legends).
> 
> [Cilghal](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cilghal).
> 
> [Dac](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dac).
> 
> [Lekku](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lekku).
> 
> [Happabore](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Happabore).
> 
> [Ataru](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Form_IV/Legends).
> 
> [Soresu](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Form_III/Legends).
> 
> [Squill liver salad](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Squill_liver_salad).
> 
> [Borundi peak](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Borundi_Peak).
> 
> [Jysella Horn](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jysella_Horn).
> 
> [Holocron](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Holocron/Legends).
> 
> [Kiffar](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Kiffar/Legends).
> 
> [The Azurbani system](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Azurbani_system).
> 
> [Quinlan Vos](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Quinlan_Vos/Legends) and his [holocron](https://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Quinlan_Vos%27s_holocron), the transcript of which can be found on [this French website](https://www.starwars-holocron.net/fiches/holocron-de-quinlan-vos).
> 
> [Adegan crystal](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Adegan_crystal).
> 
> [Trandoshan](https://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Trandoshan/Legends).
> 
> [Gumbaeki](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gumbaeki).
> 
> [Faie](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Faie).
> 
> [Khaleen Hentz](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Khaleen_Hentz).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To absolutely none of my usual readers' surprise, I have extended the chapter count. Why am I like this 🙃

Rey thinks about Quinlan Vos' holocron for the rest of the afternoon and well into the night. Luke had said that the Force would show her what she needed to hear most and, while she  _had_ taken the Ataru lesson to heart, it's the final recording that preys on her mind. She'd asked Luke about it but he'd only ever gotten as far as the last Form IV technique in his previous meditations with the holocron; the message addressed to Khaleen hadn't played for him like it had for Rey.

 

So now she's tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, forcing her eyes shut only for them to meet blank stone ceiling every few minutes, almost against her will. She's just so burningly  _curious—_ love had been anathema back then, so when had Quinlan gotten together with Khaleen? Had it been a secret relationship, like the one between Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala that Ben had once told her about? Or had it happened after Clone Protocol 66, when the Jedi Order had fallen and with it all the old rules?

 

Had Quinlan and Khaleen gotten their happy ending? Or had he died in the war?

 

It's sometime past midnight when Rey decides sleep is a lost cause and she might as well get to the bottom of things while she's at it. Springing out of bed, she pulls on the pair of fuzzy pink slippers that had been a gift from Jysella, cinches her utility belt around her waist, and layers a serviceable gray cloak over her sleep clothes to keep the evening chill at bay before leaving her room and making her way down to the Archives.

 

The corridors of the Great Temple are dark at this hour, and the underground vault that hosts the Jedi Order's prized relics is darker still. To save energy, the lights in this and many other areas of the Praxeum are timed to coincide with normal humanoid circadian rhythms, and Rey fumbles for the glowlamp on her utility belt, levitating it into the air so that the device forms a halo of white light above her head that bobs with each step she takes, illuminating her path through the labyrinth of glass cases and wooden shelves that occupies most of the cavernous chamber.

 

Taking a deep breath, Rey clears her mind and... walks with the Force. That's the only way she's able to put it into words. Back when she was still scavenging on Jakku, there'd been something— an  _instinct—_ that led her to the choicest scrap, buried beneath the sands or hidden in the bowels of ruined starships. She didn't have the name for it then that she does now, and she's spent the last thirteen years honing it to a sharp point.

 

The Force will guide her to what she seeks. She expects it to be one of the bound texts on the shelves or another holocron to be liberated from its glass casing and communed with. She does  _not_ expect it to be Ben Solo, cross-legged on the floor and leaning against a wall in the furthest corner of the library area, fast asleep with an ancient book spread open on his lap.

 

Rey stops short at the sight of him, a gasp of surprise falling from her lips. He stirs, blinking slowly up at her through the gloom. "Rey?" He says her name in a voice that's all hoarse and scratchy from sleep, and it's so  _intimate_ that her stomach just sort of— flips in on itself. Like a panna cake on a griddle and, oh, great, now she's hungry  _and_ horny. Wonderful.

 

"What time is it?" Ben groggily inquires.

 

Rey tries her very best to sound casual and not  _at all_ like she's thinking of jumping him right then and there. "A little after midnight."

 

Ben swears under his breath, carefully levitating the book back to its proper place on the nearby shelf before picking himself up from off the floor. "I went back here after dinner to finish reading and dozed off."

 

"Can't imagine why," Rey quips. "Regular page-turners, these ancient Jedi texts."

 

"You crept down here in the middle of the night, so I assume they must hold at least  _some_ interest," Ben points out. "Nice slippers, by the way."

 

Rey bristles. "They're cute!"

 

He flashes her a crooked half-smile in the lamplight. "I never said they weren't."

 

She makes a face, mostly because she doesn't know what else to  _do_ when he's being so heart-wrenchingly handsome like this. "What were you reading?"

 

"The original  _Jedi Path._ There's some fascinating marginalia scribbled on the pages—"

 

"What's  _marginalia?"_

 

"Comments left by readers that are... scribbled on the pages."

 

"Ah." Rey nods sagely. "So you were being redundant."

 

Ben glares at her. "And what are  _you_ doing here, brat?"

 

She wastes no time in telling him about the love letter wrapped up in a holocron, figuring that if anyone can help her, it's Ben, who, like, practically  _lives_ in the Archives. True enough, he's already turned to the shelves before she's even finished talking, unhooking his own glowlamp from his utility belt to better peer at the titles embossed on spines of paper and leather. "Khaleen is Khaleen Hentz. She was a Separatist agent who infiltrated Quinlan Vos' spy network on the orders of Count Dooku, but she later defected to the Republic."

 

"Because she and Quinlan fell in love!" Rey guesses excitedly.

 

Ben purses his lips as if he doesn't particularly hold Rey's theory in high esteem, but he keeps whatever opinions he has to himself. "Hentz kept a journal, which Master Tionne found on Kashyyyk a few years ago. There was some debate as to whether it should be stored in our library— it's not strictly a Jedi artifact, because Hentz wasn't Force-sensitive, but it contains an account of the war and is one of the few extant primary sources on Vos' life—"

 

"I absolutely  _love,"_ Rey interrupts with a grin, "that these are the sort of hot-button issues plaguing the Jedi Order these days."

 

"Such is the price of peace," Ben quips. His wandering fingers pause at a nondescript brown tome, which he extracts from the shelf and holds out to her.

 

Rey takes the journal and bounds over to the spot that Ben had vacated, folding herself into pretty much the same position he'd been in as she starts to read. He sits next to her, a broad and comfortable warmth at her side, their glowlamps suspended over their heads. And no matter how engrossed she is, she can't help but blurt her findings out loud, and even though he's probably read it all before, he nods along, interjecting supplementary facts and his own observations here and there. It's quiet and it's peaceful, just the two of them in their little circle of white light amidst the pressing shadows and the dust of ages, piecing together the dreams and musings of what, when all's said and done, had been an extraordinary life.

 

She doesn't notice that he's fallen back asleep until she's on the last page of the journal. His remarks had been steadily growing fewer and farther between but she'd chalked that up to her own lengthier silences as the entries became so riveting that she couldn't turn to the next page soon enough. Quinlan and Khaleen had gotten separated, she feared he was dead, she gave birth to their son, and—

 

_We found his holocron here on Kashyyyk,_ Khaleen had written, and Rey can actually feel the breath pause in her own lungs.  _There was a message for me. I think it was_ _ because _ _ it was for me that I was able to open it. I must have played that recording a hundred times, over and over again, missing Quin so much that it was like a wound that refused to heal. _

 

_Today, I was engrossed in the holocron once more, barely paying attention to my surroundings. I had just gotten to the part where he says, "Before I die, Khaleen, just so you know..."_

 

_And I heard someone say, "Playback stop."_

 

_The holocron deactivated in my hands. I turned around and Quin was there, and looking into my eyes as he finished the message in person._

 

_"Khaleen, I love you."_

 

_And then I was running, I was kissing him, he was warm and solid and alive, and the Jedi are gone and darkness has fallen but our son will be raised in the light, and I know we will never be parted again._

 

Rey closes the journal, smiling so broadly that the corners of her mouth start to ache. "Ben," she gushes, turning to him, "they found each other again! They—"

 

His eyes are closed, his stern features achingly soft as his head lists to the side, almost drooping onto her shoulder while his chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths. There are still two glowlamps hovering in the air— she must have automatically assumed control of his device without even realizing it, her Force energy sliding around his in a seamless dance.

 

He sighs her name in his sleep.  _ "Rey." _

 

She short-circuits enough that she forgets he  _ is  _ asleep. "Yeah?" she murmurs dreamily, because this moment is as close as can be to what she dreams about.

 

Ben's eyes flutter open, and reality crashes over Rey like a bucket of ice-cold water. She tries to scoot away but his arm loops around her waist— not pulling her closer, but just— just catching her. Keeping her there next to him, their faces inches apart, his hand resting on the small of her back. He's not fully awake yet— she can tell from the way he blinks at her, all drowsy and slow. Another smile makes its way across his face and she's struck by the weird thought that he's, like,  _ happy  _ to see her— was happy that she was there as soon as he opened his eyes. His free hand cradles her face, cupping her cheek in one massive palm, and she can't  _ think,  _ can't  _ breathe,  _ trapped in the amber of this moment—

 

The glowlamps fall to the floor, her concentration shot all to hell. They're durable enough that they don't shatter upon impact, but the dull thud pierces through Ben's daze. He starts, both his hands dropping away from her, his smile curving into a vague, disoriented frown. Rey feels as if something important has been lost, leaving no assurance that it can ever be found again; it makes her want to cry and so, to ensure that she doesn't, she quickly holds the journal up like a shield between them.

 

"They found each other again," she repeats. "Quinlan and Khaleen, I mean. But it doesn't say what happens afterwards, where they and their son are now, or if—" She falters, fearing the worst— "or if they survived the Empire at all—"

 

"As far as Master Tionne was able to gather, they lived on Kashyyyk for a time before moving on." Although Ben's retreated into his usual solemnity, it's clear that he's making an effort to gentle his tone in order to alleviate any impending distress on her part. "No trace of them has been found since. But I believe that's a good thing." Rey slants him a dubious look and he continues, "Think about it. No Imperial arrest records, not a single mention in the Rebel Alliance logs— the chances are staggeringly high that they disappeared into the Outer Rim and—" He rolls his eyes slightly, teasing a small grin out of her— "lived happily ever after."

 

"I guess you're right," Rey finally concedes. It's a bit— okay, a  _ lot—  _ frustrating to not have any definite answers, but there's nothing more that can be done. She stands up, puts the journal back on the shelf, and she and Ben start to make their way out of the Archives. Something's still weighing on her mind, though, and they're only halfway to the doors when she gives voice to it, whirling around to face him amidst aisles of glass.

 

"She waited for him," Rey bursts out, "and he came back."

 

There's no need to tell Ben why she finds this so worthy of being remarked upon. He understands immediately, because he knows her better than anyone else does. Knows that she carries her own wounds that will never heal. His sharp features collapse into something like tenderness and he reaches out to take her hand.

 

"Like Khaleen Hentz, you are also the sort of person who deserves to be returned to." He gives her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Anyone who doesn't realize that isn't worth waiting for. Has  _ never  _ been worth waiting for."

 

He walks her back to her room and he doesn't let go of her hand, right up to the moment they stand outside her door and bid each other good night.

 

*

 

The following evening finds Rey tossing and turning in bed again. But, this time, for an entirely different reason.

 

She can't stop thinking about Ben.

 

Or, well, to be perfectly frank, she's never  _ not  _ thinking about Ben these days, but tonight there's an edge to it. The casual touches and the many ways he's looked at her this week alone have fanned the flames of—  _ something.  _ Something that she's pretty sure will burn her up from the inside if she lets it continue roaring through her system unchecked.

 

Rey's no stranger to her body's needs. She's even given in a few times over the years— always at night, her hand tentatively slipping beneath her waistband as she shuts her eyes and bites her lip and learns what feels good. What she gets out of it, though, has  _ rarely  _ been worth the hassle of constantly checking to make sure her shields are up, the paranoia that they'd still slipped despite her best efforts, and that niggling little stab of guilt in the back of her mind. Logically, she knows it's completely natural and that a lot of people must do it, too, but, like, no one ever  _ talks  _ about it, it's a thing that seems destined to take place only in secret, under cover of darkness, the body in furtive bloom.

 

Secrets are hard to keep in a temple crawling with Force-attuned individuals. Rey knows she will literally  _ die  _ if she were to mess up and someone sensed—

 

Anyway. Meditating has so often proved to be the better option. Taking deep breaths, focusing on the light before the self, regaining inner peace.

 

_ Tonight,  _ however, meditation is just— simply not  _ working.  _ She's itchy in her own skin, each rasp of cloth against her breasts and thighs as coarse as torture. Whenever she closes her eyes she sees Ben smirking at her beneath the marsh-grubber trees, or blinking at her in the lamplight, or shirtless and perfect against the sun. That's not all— she can  _ hear  _ him as well, sleepily rasping her name, sighing in her ear, telling her she's worth coming back to. Phantom hands touch her face and caress her sides. The echoes of Ben's warmth enfold her, his scent dancing at the periphery of her senses.

 

This goes on for  _ hours.  _ A silent suffering, her blanket twisting around her legs in the starlight that pours in through the open window.

 

And, finally, she has had  _ enough. _

 

Rey lifts her shirt up over her ribs until it's bunched haphazardly between her shoulders. There's a slight breeze wafting into her room and it whispers cool and soft against her exposed breasts, her already erect nipples pebbling even further as she gives them an experimental roll between forefinger and thumb. She figured out ages ago that her breasts are rather sensitive— that it doesn't take more than a few light touches for the sensations to trickle down to her core, a slow, tantalizing pull— and at first she resolves to be as efficient as she can, get this over with as quickly as possible.

 

But her body has a mind of its own tonight. It's not long before her perfunctory tugs and pinches give way to the scrape of rough palms, the swirl of fingertips. Each stroke drawing out all the sharp, glittering sensations so slowly, ever so slowly. Her spine lifts off the bed as she arches up into her own touch, thighs pressing together in a vain attempt to provide friction where she needs it most.

 

She thinks about Ben and touches her breasts the way she wants him to. Wonders if he'll linger over them like this— if he'd kiss them, were she to ask. She pictures him sucking on one as she weighs it in her hands like an offering, those plush red lips wrapped around her nipple as he peers up at her through sooty lashes.

 

_ "Maker,"  _ Rey whimpers out loud. So good— that is  _ so good.  _ She can't help but congratulate her imagination even as her hand drifts downwards, no longer able to ignore the ache between her legs. It should be shameful, rubbing herself through her panties to thoughts of Ben Solo. It  _ is  _ shameful, but, as with other times past, there is a certain deliciousness to the shame, to the full-body flush she gets. There is a thrill in doing what she isn't supposed to. There is  _ freedom,  _ and so what if it is of the dark side, as long as it never leaves this room—

 

Rey's so hopelessly wet that her index finger slides in with only the mildest resistance, pumping slickly, knuckle curled against the constraints of her underwear. It's satisfying but not enough, and she hurriedly adds a second digit. A tighter fit this time, the fullness breathtaking rather than outright painful.

 

Ben's fingers were so much larger than hers, of course. One would probably be too much. She shivers at the thought of him doing this to her while he murmurs filthy things in her ear, while he kisses her neck— a mental image that, in her heightened state, she can almost  _ feel,  _ his lips on her skin, his heartbeat like thunder, his long, thick fingers filling her up, going so deep.

 

She's all pure instinct now, her shields wavering and only the reflexes honed by years of training keeping them in place. Her other hand darts between her legs as well, fingers kneading at that little bundle of nerves— the good spot, the  _ best  _ spot— and she is  _ almost there,  _ led one step closer to orgasm by her waking dream of Ben. She just needs—  _ something— _

 

And this is the part where Rey's imagination gets the better of her, the part where her heart flies out wildly into the night. This is the part where this imaginary Ben tells her he loves her, groans it softly against her cheek, or into her neck, or maybe he kisses her lips while he says it, and she melts and comes all at once, hips bucking up into her palm and holding still as both pleasure and longing wash over her in molten waves.

 

Afterwards, Rey lies there quietly in the dark, staring up at the ceiling as her breathing evens out and her pulse returns to normal, sweat cooling on her skin, wondering how she'll ever be able to look Ben in the eye tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Glowlamp](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Glowrod/Legends).
> 
> [Panna cake](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Panna_cake).
> 
> [The Jedi Path](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/The_Jedi_Path:_A_Manual_for_Students_of_the_Force).


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So blown away by the response to this silly bit of fluff! Thank you, everyone! <3

It's the Bothan apprentice, Yaqeel Saav'etu, who sees it first, on the last afternoon of classes before the eight-day break. She's sitting by the window in Master Tresina Lobi's classroom when she suddenly perks up, her gaze fixed on a point outside and the thick mahogany fur covering her body bristling with an excitement that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the ongoing lecture on conflict intervention.

 

Naturally, Rey— who's sitting beside Yaqeel— cranes her neck to peer out the window as well. A broad grin spreads across her face as she sees a black T-70 X-wing plunge from the clouds, soaring over the treetops in a swift beeline for the Praxeum. It's soon followed by several other starfighters, and bringing up the rear is the Ghtroc 720 light freighter bearing supplies from Hosnian Prime, capital of the Republic.

 

The whine of engines fills the air as the convoy draws nearer and the lecture grinds to an unceremonious halt, the apprentices surrendering all pretense of listening to Tresina in favor of whispering among themselves and trying to catch a glimpse of Black Squadron. Rey thinks that this sort of behavior wouldn't have flown— and she can just imagine Ben rolling her eyes at _that_ pun— with a teacher like the former Imperial soldier Kyle Katarn or the fierce, reptilian Saba Sebatyne. But Tresina is from Vinsoth, as placid as her homeworld's grassy plains on a summer day, and is pretty easygoing as far as Masters go. She dismisses the class with a rueful snort and a wave of slate-gray fingers, and the next generation of Jedi just, like, _burst_ from the room— because vacation has officially begun, because the X-wings are here, because they're all in their late teens or the various non-human equivalents thereof, and when you're that age you _relish_ acting like a kid again.

 

Finn and Rey lead the charge to the landing grid. By the time they get there, the supplies are already being unloaded by an assortment of freighter crew and temple droids, and the starfighter pilots are stretching their legs and chatting with Luke and some of the Knights. For Rey, there's no happier sight than Rose being reunited with her older sister, Paige— although she gets that same faint twinge she always does whenever someone's family comes to visit them on Yavin 4, it stopped being an all-abiding hurt a long time ago. And she doesn't have to ponder how that came about, not when Finn is draping a companionable arm over her shoulders, not when Jysella is beckoning them over to the shadow cast by _Black One,_ not when Ben had told her the other night that she was worth coming back to.

 

She has everything she needs right here.

 

Poe Dameron emerges from the cockpit, flight helmet tucked under one arm. He flashes a smile, all chiseled features and messy dark curls, and Rey _swears_ she can hear a plethora of dreamy sighs ripple among the other apprentices and even some of the Jedi Knights. Beside her, Jysella's full-on _blushing,_ but Rey's only got eyes for the round orange-and-white astromech droid weaving out from behind Poe's legs.

 

"Beebee!" She drops to her knees on the grass as BB-8 happily chirrups at her.

 

"Oh, so _now_ you're in a good mood," Poe snipes at the droid with exasperated fondness. Catching Rey's quizzical glance, he explains, "He was cranky on the way over. Snapped at me and everything."

 

"I think I know why." Rey reaches out a hand and adjusts BB-8's transmitter antenna. "It's listing to the left a bit. Common problem with the BB series, but it should be easy to fix when you get back to the Hosnian system."

 

Poe blinks, apparently impressed. "We could use you in the tech division, Madame Jedi. Sure I can't take you away from all this?"

 

"It's in bad form to try and pirate my uncle's students, Dameron. Especially when he's right over _there."_

 

The words are laced with acid sarcasm, uttered in a low voice that curls into the corners of Rey's heart like smoke. Ben's right behind her. She hadn't sensed his approach due to the noises on the landing grid, the whirl of various Force signatures, and her own preoccupation with BB-8, but, oh, is she ever aware of him _now—_ the back of her neck prickling, her soul alight.

 

And she's blushing, too. She hadn't seen him all day but _last night_ comes rushing back to her, how she'd touched herself to the thought of him in the solace of her bedroom. Embarrassed warmth stains her cheeks and she hunkers down further over BB-8, fiddling with his antenna like the task is a matter of life and death.

 

"Solo!" Poe greets Ben amiably, clapping him on the arm and not seeming to mind in the least that the action earns him that icy Organa glare. "Heard about your little encounter with Grakkus. Good job, man. Although—" He coughs— "if Senator Organa asks, I passed along the message that that was an _extremely reckless_ and _unaccountably foolish_ thing you did, and you are _entirely too much_ like your father."

 

"You _did_ pass that message along," Ben points out dryly.

 

Poe scratches his chin, a teasing glint in his brown eyes. "So I did."

 

Ben makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat before clearly deciding that ignoring Poe is the best option available to him. He turns to Rey, who instinctively looks up at him from where she's crouched on the ground, and she watches his gaze flicker from her reddened face to Poe and then back again.

 

"I need to talk to you," Ben tells her with a scowl that makes her raise an eyebrow at him, but she lets him lead her away from the others and soon they're tucked behind one side of the ziggurat, out of sight of the landing grid.

 

Rey leans back against the wall, grateful for the cool stone against her flushed nape. Ben towers over her, his thunderous scowl deepening with each silent moment that passes them by.

 

"Yes?" she finally prompts. "What is it?"

 

For a second he appears just as confused as she is, his pale brow knitting. Then he asks, "What time do you want to leave tomorrow?" in a rush, as if he'd plucked it from thin air at the last possible second.

 

"The Masters are shipping out at sunrise, so you can take the _Falcon_ out after breakfast and come back, and then I guess we can go at around eleven," Rey muses. And, because she can't _quite_ figure out why this question couldn't wait until later, she adds in a lighter tone of voice, "I thought you wanted to talk to me about something urgent."

 

Ben stiffens, his fists clenching at his sides. "Forgive me for interrupting your _quality time_ with Dameron," he hisses, "but, considering you harangued me into this plan of yours, I assumed that you'd take it more seriously and that you were genuine in wanting to do something nice for your friend—"

 

"Hey!" Rey snaps, because, yeah, she's just a stupid kid, but she's not stupid enough to believe that she deserves this kind of tone from him. And she doesn't say anything else— just _glowers_ at him, all confused hurt and wounded dignity— but that seems to be enough. He visibly _deflates,_ the anger draining from him as quickly as it had materialized.

 

"Fuck," Ben mutters. He takes a deep breath and then it feels as if he's forcing himself to meet her gaze, his dark eyes sincere yet troubled. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you. I apologize."

 

Rey's always been quick to forgive whenever Ben's involved, but _this_ time— "I get that you're in a mood these days and that Poe isn't your favorite person in the galaxy, but that wasn't fair," she says tersely. "You know how important my friends are to me. You— you _know."_

 

Ben nods, looking pained. "I do. Again, I am sorry. I lashed out because I was—" He stops, regarding her with a trace of apprehension. Of what could almost be fear.

 

"You were what?" Rey asks, her heart tight in her chest, everything about this moment suddenly poised on the edge of a cliff for some reason. They're on the verge of— of _something,_ she can tell from the look in his eyes. His answer will change her life; she knows that the way she knows the Force.

 

Ben licks his lips. A nervous gesture. "I was—"

 

And that's when BB-8 comes trundling around the ziggurat and barrels into Ben's knees, his little domed head ablaze with a shower of sparks. Ben stumbles, managing to right himself before he hits the grass, and Rey jumps back, startled, as the droid careens into the wall and rolls away, disappearing into the trees.

 

"Sorry!" Poe calls out, jogging up to them. "I tried to fix the antenna but I think I made it worse— hey, Solo, why're you glaring at me like that? You're scaring me here, buddy..."

 

*

 

In the end it's Luke who manages to recover BB-8. The Grand Master of the Jedi Order stands at the edge of the jungle and stretches out a hand, closing his eyes while everyone else hangs back to watch with varying degrees of concern and interest and— in Ben's case— furious disdain as he reflexively stoops to massage his bruised kneecap. The Force moves like wind through the trees and, after several long minutes, a floating, squirming BB-8 emerges from the tangle of rustling leaves and branches, beeping in indignation as he is telekinetically hauled towards Luke.

 

"Beebee!" Poe gasps at a particularly colorful binary expletive. "Where did you learn to talk like _that?"_

 

"Artoo, probably," Luke quips. He sets the disgruntled BB-8 down at his feet and winks at his audience, acting for all the world like a man who had just pulled off a neat party trick instead of an incredible display of Force power. "And _that,_ kids, is how it's done."

 

*

 

Since the convoy isn't scheduled to leave for another three hours, Paige Tico takes tea with Finn, Rey, and Rose at the generating station located two kilometers from the main temple. Or, to be more accurate, Paige, Finn, and Rey sip piping hot cups of spiced nysillim and demolish a plateful of some of the buttersweet puffs that Paige had brought from Hosnian Prime while Rose putters with the generator, mumbling crossly about how it would take a miracle for the whole thing to not fall apart until she returns from the Boonta scrapyard.

 

"Careful with those junk dealers," Paige warns Rose. "They can get really sore if you try to drive a hard bargain. Better if they don't know you're affiliated with the Jedi."

 

"I'll be fine," Rose says. "I have Finn to protect me." She says this last bit with dripping sarcasm, and Finn does this strange thing where he rolls his eyes at her but _also_ attempts to give Paige a reassuring, _you-can-count-on-me_ look. The effect is comical and it takes every ounce of self-restraint for Rey to not snort pastry crumbs all over Rose's dining table.

 

The older Tico purses her lips but drops the subject, instead studying the homey interior of the station with a critical eye. "I'm sure there's more than enough room for you at the temple— why don't you just live there?"

 

"Because I hate people," Rose patiently explains, banging a loose screw into place with the side of a torque wrench.

 

"Speaking of antisocial tendencies—" Finn glances over at Rey— "what did Solo want to talk to you about?"

 

"Oh, um—" Rey frantically searches for an answer that won't entail divulging her plan for Rose's birthday, but she soon realizes that, given how her and Ben's conversation had gone, she technically won't be lying if she says— "I don't really know, to be honest."

 

"He just wanted to get you away from Dameron, then?" Paige asks with a smirk. "Knew it."

 

Rey blinks. "What does _that_ mean?"

 

Paige laughs, shaking her head. "For people with all sorts of weird mystical abilities, you Jedi can be _so_ emotionally obtuse." She brings her teacup to her lips and is smirking again by the time she places it back on the table. "Look, Rey, you're like the younger sister I never had—"

 

"She says, as she sits there drinking my tea," Rose grumbles from where she's kneeling by the generator's circuit panel.

 

"— So let me give you some free advice," Paige airily continues, waving a buttersweet puff at Rey to emphasize whatever point she's about to make. "Some guys— not all, but _some—_ you can never get anything out of unless you're direct. Like, _painfully_ direct. So go ahead and ask Solo if he was jealous. Fortune favors the brave and all that."

 

*

 

Finn and Rose leave for the Boonta scrapyard later that evening. Rey accompanies them to the hangar and hugs them goodbye but makes her exit before their ship takes off— even after all these years, she still can't stomach watching loved ones fly away.

 

Ben is nicer than usual during dinner— whether out of contrition or because he's aware she's sad that Finn and Rose have left, Rey doesn't know. But every time he so much as glances her way she's incredibly tempted to ask him if Paige had been right— it doesn't seem likely but, _kriff,_ how happy would she be if it were true, how amazing would it be to have some indication that she's not the only one twisted into knots—

 

It's after lights out and Rey is just about to crawl into bed when she's brought up short by the realization that— no, she wouldn't be happy _at all._

 

What she and Ben have— even if it will only ever be just friendship— it goes beyond all this... circling around, this playing coy and waiting for someone else to blink first. She remembers how awful she felt while he was talking to Alema and the pit of her stomach, like, _drops_ at this slightest of possibilities that he's been thrust into that same situation.

 

She'll never do that to him. Not if she can help it.

 

Quickly, before she has the opportunity to second-guess herself, Rey marches out of her room and down the corridor, towards Ben's quarters. Starlight pours in through the temple windows, bathing her path in a silvery chiaroscuro. It doesn't take long for her courage to fail but by then it's too late, she's already knocking on Ben's door and it's swinging open and he's staring down at her, dark hair rumpled, clad only in loose sleep pants that hang dangerously low on his hips.

 

Rey's toes curl of their own volition within the confines of her ridiculous fuzzy slippers. Gods, his _chest,_ those _abs—_ she just wants to _cling_ to him and never let go—

 

_Focus,_ she chides herself. _You're here on a mission, damn it._

 

Ben opens his mouth to say something— most likely to ask why she was banging on his door in the middle of the night— but she beats him to it. "You don't have to be jealous," she bursts out. "Of Poe or anyone else." It's as graceless as can be because she's too flustered to lead into it, because she's clumsy with her words when it comes to him, because she'd been so guarded when she first arrived on Yavin 4 and he'd drawn her out of her shell with his awkward caring and his sullen gentleness. "You haven't had to be jealous for _years."_ Unshed tears brim in her eyes— she's just so _overwhelmed_ by how much she means it in this moment. "I promise, Ben."

 

His lips part as if in shock. He continues to stare at her, unspeaking, and soon enough her bravado melts away, replaced by dawning horror as multiple worst-case scenarios flit through her mind. Paige had been wrong. Everything's been ruined. Of _course_ he didn't feel the same.

 

Rey's not proud of what she does next but it can't be helped. Autopilot kicks in; she spins on her heel and she _runs—_ maybe back to her room, or maybe she'll just head straight for the hangar and commandeer the nearest ship and disappear into Wild Space forever—

 

She gets as far as a couple of steps before a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist, hauling her back against a broad and solid chest, a heartbeat racing feverishly at her spine. She stands there, frozen, her gaze filled with stone walls and starlight, enveloped in Ben's warmth and the clean scent of his bare skin.

 

He buries his face in the crook where her neck meets her shoulder, nosing softly at the unkempt hair that she'd taken down before bed. "Good to know." The roughness in his voice is belied by the tender press of his lips to a spot just below her ear. "For the record, you don't have to be jealous, either."

 

Rey can scarcely believe it. It's unreal in the way all good dreams are. But she turns around slowly and she's still in Ben's arms and he's smiling down at her— actually, honest-to-god _smiling—_ and she knows that this is real, that she's made of light and she's soaring up into the universe that his eyes hold for her and her alone.

 

"Really?" she whispers, and it's only the way the corners of her mouth ache at the movement that makes her realize she's smiling just as widely as he is.

 

He brushes the tip of his nose against hers, nuzzling until she giggles. "Really," he murmurs, his lips so close to hers that it could almost be a kiss. And she _wants_ him to kiss her, she really does, but there's also this _tiny_ flicker of anxiety because she's never kissed anyone before and what if she's bad at it and—

 

And Ben must pick up on her hesitation because he pauses, the look on his face turning contemplative. His smile— doesn't dim, not by a long shot, but it _does_ go soft at the edges, in a way that Rey is suddenly absolutely certain she will carry in her heart for as long as she lives.

 

"Go to bed, _pateesa."_ He kisses the wrinkle that forms along her brow at the endearment, his hand coming up to trace the curve of her waist in a light, fleeting caress. "I'll see you in the morning."

 

"See you," Rey echoes.

 

She steps away from him, but neither of them actually make a move to go back to their respective rooms. They just _stand_ there. In the hallway. Grinning at each other like a pair of idiots. He's shirtless and she's wearing fuzzy pink slippers, for heaven's sake.

 

"Rey." Ben says her name like he's trying not to laugh.

 

"All right, all right, I'm going." It's with reluctance that she turns around, but she feels his gaze fixed on her as she traverses the empty, silent corridor, and it's like she's floating, like the floor doesn't exist and every step is spun from air and darkness, and when she falls asleep that night she dreams of oceans, starlit and lovely and still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Yaqeel Saav'etu](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Yaqeel_Saav%27etu).
> 
> [Tresina Lobi](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tresina_Lobi).
> 
> [Vinsoth](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Vinsoth/Legends).
> 
> [Ghtroc 720 freighter](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Class_720_freighter).
> 
> [Kyle Katarn](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Kyle_Katarn).
> 
> [Saba Sebatyne](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Saba_Sebatyne).
> 
> [Spiced nysillim tea](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Spiced_nysillim_tea).
> 
> [Buttersweet puff](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Buttersweet_puff).
> 
> [Torque wrench](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Torque_wrench).
> 
> [Wild space](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Wild_Space/Legends).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short penultimate chapter because things got a bit hectic this past week, as I'm flying to the U.S. today! I'll wrap this up with a nice long final installment when I return from my trip. In the meantime, feedback would be much appreciated <3

The first stage of the plan goes— surprisingly  _well,_ actually. Without classes to get to, Rey indulges in the luxury of sleeping in and wakes up to a text communique from Ben informing her that he's just returned from stashing the  _Falcon_ in the jungle. She heads downstairs to grab a quick breakfast with the other late-risers, which include Jysella, Tiu Zax, and Seff Hellin, who wave her over to their table the moment she enters the mess hall.

 

Halfway through his plate of bantha-and-onion hash, Seff suddenly shoots Rey a blue-eyed look of deepest suspicion. "What are you all  _smiley_ for this early in the morning?"

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rey says through a mouthful of scrambled Vakiir eggs. "I am  _not."_

 

"You  _are—"_

 

"Oh, leave her alone, Seff," Jysella butts in, with a conspiratorial glance at Rey that makes it clear she knows more than she's letting on. "Some of us can actually function before noon."

 

"Point taken," huffs the blond apprentice. "Pass me some more of that caf, Tiu."

 

Tiu levitates the pot of caf toward Seff, waiting until it's safely back on the table before saying, "I have noticed that humans are more cheerful when they engage in courtship rituals. Perhaps this is the case with Rey."

 

Rey damn near spits out her food. Tiu is Omwati, blue-skinned and vaguely avian in appearance, possessed of a scientist's mind that leaves little room for tact. Seff bursts into uproarious laughter, only to stop as Jysella not-so-subtly kicks him under the table and changes the subject.

 

Rey manages to hold her peace until she and Jysella head back to their rooms after breakfast. "Does  _everyone_ know?" she demands.

 

"Know what?" Jysella teases, but she's quick to answer more seriously when Rey groans in frustration. "You and Knight Solo have always been close. This past year, however, there's been an... edge to that closeness. I don't think everyone  _knows,_ exactly, but I do think no one will be surprised when it's finally confirmed."

 

"Brilliant," Rey mutters, more glad than ever that she and Ben are going away. She'd much rather figure out this new phase of their relationship while free from prying eyes.

 

Jysella pats her shoulder. "For what it's worth, my friend, I am happy for you."

 

She sounds so  _sincere_ that Rey can't help but lighten up. "That's worth a lot, 'Sella." She smiles softly at the other girl. "Thank you."

 

*

 

After she's done stuffing her pack with everything she needs for the next few days, Rey changes into a sleeveless tunic, a gray vest, and brown leggings. This isn't a Jedi mission and it would feel wrong to go into it wearing the trappings of the Order. She's just about finished securing the wraps around her arms when there's a knock at her door, which she immediately waves open with the Force.

 

_Oh._

 

Ben is standing at the threshold to her room, also clad in civilian attire— a white shirt molded to his statuesque torso, a vest of black, soft-looking leather, and black trousers that accentuate his long legs, with a brown utility belt slung at his hips. He blinks at the sight of Rey, the beginnings of a lazy half-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "You look nice."

 

"Thanks," Rey says. "You look—"  _Delicious and dangerous and so, so bad for me—_ "like a smuggler."

 

"Don't let my father hear you say that," he warns, but he sounds... less grumpy about it than he normally would have been. His eyes are still fixed on her like he's never seen her before and it's really— well, it's  _flattering._ She's  _flattered,_ her face starting to go pleasantly warm under his scrutiny.

 

Finally, he clears his throat. "Shall we?"

 

"Yeah." Rey hoists her pack onto her shoulders, all but dancing with excitement. "Yeah, let's."

 

*

 

It is, of course, too much to hope that they can leave unnoticed, as the temple grounds are full of people soaking up the warm sun and the balmy breeze. In particular, Valin Horn— Jysella's older brother— raises an eyebrow at Ben and Rey from where he's lounging beneath a tree with Alema and her twin sister, Numa Rar.

 

"First date, Solo?" he drawls, and Rey tries not to die inside  _too_ much but, to his credit, Ben hardly breaks stride. 

 

"We're hiking to Borundi Peak to get lava crystals for Rey's saberstaff," he tells Valin and the Rar sisters. "Should be back in five days or so."

 

"Ah, slogging through the humid jungle, sleeping in the mud, fighting off bugs the size of one's hand. How  _romantic,"_ Alema deadpans.

 

"I think it sounds fun," says Numa, who's always been the nicer twin. "Stay safe, you two."

 

"Yeah, don't do anything  _I_ wouldn't!" Valin hoots.

 

An unripe fruit drops from the tree branch, soundly beaning him on the head. He yelps, and Rey does  _not_ miss Ben's smirk in the same way that she  _also_ noticed his fingers twitch about half a second before the fruit collided with Valin's skull. This would normally have earned a giggle from her at the very least, but she's all wound up from Valin's innuendo and it's not until she and Ben have disappeared into the jungle that she begins to relax.

 

"Where'd you leave the  _Falcon?"_ she asks once they're a good distance away from the Praxeum.

 

"In the clearing behind the Palace of the Woolamander."

 

_"Ben."_ Rey's lips purse. "That's a three-hour walk from here."

 

"I'm sorry, did you  _want_ someone to look out their window and see us flying away?" he retorts, although his tone is more amused than it is anything else. "If we take off low and slow from that clearing, the ruins will provide some cover before I pull her up."

 

"Before  _you_ pull her up?" Rey echoes in disbelief. "Whatever gave you the impression that you'd be the one piloting?"

 

"I could have sworn that someone kept insisting the  _Falcon_ was  _my_ ship a few days ago," Ben says to the treetops.

 

"She  _is,"_ Rey says impatiently, "but it's  _my_ mission, so—"

 

"We could duel for piloting privileges," he offers. "What do you think?"

 

She perks up. "Deal. You are  _so_ going down."

 

"I don't doubt  _that."_

 

Rey stops in her tracks. Did he mean— surely not—

 

Ben pauses as well, a few steps ahead of her. There is silence—  _utter_ silence. From a logical point of view, the various small creatures that inhabit this part of the jungle would have undoubtedly heard them coming from a mile away and scurried off, but right at this very moment it truly feels as if the world has gone still with shock.  _Rey's_ certainly one false move away from keeling over.

 

She focuses on Ben's broad back, how the tips of his ears slowly turn a neon shade of red. Forget emergency beacons— if they ever get into trouble, all she has to do is embarrass him and a rescue team would be able to spot those ears from the air.

 

"That sounded funnier in my head," Ben ruefully admits once the silence has stretched on long enough to be uncomfortable. "Smoother, too."

 

Rey goes all...  _swoony,_ all weak in the knees. It's a wonder that she manages to stay upright. For him to imply  _that,_ when they haven't even kissed yet—

 

But, then again, that's the sort of person Ben is. Awkward, overwhelming, intense. With him, it will always be all or nothing.

 

Two can play  _that_ game.

 

"Well," Rey says with affected breeziness, "we'll just have to see which of us goes down first."

 

And it's the strangest thing, but she can  _feel_ his heart stop. Like, there's a pulse in the ever-present thread of the Force that is suddenly no longer  _there,_ and then reappears just as she starts to worry that she's killed him. And  _then_ she starts to worry that she'd misinterpreted again, that she'd been too forward.

 

This spate of doubt doesn't last long, however. Without turning around, Ben reaches a hand back in her direction, the intent so blissfully clear. Rey darts toward him and slips her fingers into the spaces between his, and it feels like a new thing, feels like a sunrise, feels like coming home. Hand in hand, they walk on.

 

*

 

Some time past noon, it starts to drizzle.

 

They're about thirty minutes away from the Palace of the Woolamander at this point and, despite all her meticulous planning, Rey had  _not_ thought to bring any rain gear, lulled by the constant sunshine of the past few weeks. She's down on on knee, tying a loose shoelace, when the first fat drop hits her cheek and she squints up at the patches of sky that are visible through the gaps in the leafy branches and says aloud, "Kriff."

 

"Perhaps we can outrun the worst of it," Ben suggests, and Rey nods as she springs to her feet.

 

Despite the brisk pace that they adopt, it's not even ten minutes later that it begins pouring in earnest. Veritable sheets of water come cascading through the canopy of trees as the wind picks up, and soon they're caught in the midst of a ferocious summer storm. With the rain thick enough to blind, she feels rather than sees his hand wrap around her arm and yank her forward, over the muddy trails, over the wet, tangled roots. Even though he's nothing more than a vaguely Ben-shaped blur before her waterlogged eyes, his grasp is solid and sure as he coaxes her through the deluge, and just like that she remembers Jakku, how the  _X'us'R'iia_ once descended upon her as she made her way back to the AT-AT, how she hadn't been able to see anything at all and her lungs had filled with dirt and she'd thought she was going to die alone and forgotten in the badlands, the earth swallowing her whole.

 

_If I had known back then,_ Rey thinks, her hand lifting as if of its own volition to latch trembling fingers onto Ben's sleeve even as the thunder roars in her ears and the icy wind slashes at her exposed skin,  _that one day I would have someone to hold me through the rest of the storms to come— it would have been easier. Everything I went through— all of it would have hurt less._

 

She almost wants to cry for that lost and lonely child she'd been, and perhaps she does, although it's impossible to tell in this downpour. Perhaps more of that old pain is squeezed out, melting into the rain where it can never touch her again. And when they reach the Palace of the Woolamander, when Ben pulls her beneath the ancient stone awning and gazes down at her face, his expression swiftly shifts to panic at whatever he sees in hers, and he lets go of her arm. "Fuck," he gasps, winded from the run, "did I hurt you? I'm sorry, I—"

 

Shaking her head, Rey fists her hands into Ben's shirtfront and surges up on her toes and kisses him, because this, too, is love, in the only way that she can express, her lips pressed to his, cold and slick from the elements at first but quick to warm. She doesn't bargain on how immediately he responds— how  _instinctively_ his large hands settle at her waist as he leans into the kiss, which in itself is graceless and untutored, their noses bumping together and their breathing ragged and it's all a bit  _wetter_ than she expected, honestly, and—

 

Rey manages to keep her cool when Ben's tongue slips into her mouth. It's no big deal, she's heard about this, it's a normal part of kissing— except that it's  _Ben_ and his  _tongue_ is  _in her mouth_ and her eyes fly open— when had she closed them?— and, okay, maybe she's not  _quite_ managing to keep her cool, after all—

 

"Rey," he groans, pulling her closer at the same time that he lifts his head to peer down at her with another one of those lopsided half-smiles, his fingertips rubbing soothing circles on her hipbone. "Sweetheart."

 

She turns pink at the endearment. "Sorry— it's just— your tongue was suddenly  _there_ and I didn't know what to do with it—" Ben's broad shoulders start to shake with silent mirth and she glares at him. "When you're done laughing at me," she says stiffly, "we can try again."

 

"I'm not laughing  _at_ you," he protests. "You just— you make me laugh a lot, period. It's—  _easy_ to laugh when you're around." He squeezes her hip. "It's nice."

 

"Ben Solo," Rey huffs, "if you don't kiss me again within the next few seconds—  _oh."_ The rest of the threat dissolves into a startled squeak as he crowds her up against the wall, a decorative panel of engraved woolamanders digging into her back. It doesn't exactly scream  _romance,_ this scene, what with the two of them drenched to the bone and hundreds of stone-carved potbellied monkeys staring at them with sightless, comically wide eyes, but somehow— somehow it  _works,_ and her arms loop around his neck as he peppers her lips with more lush and lovely kisses, and her eyes drift shut once more as she focuses on giving back as good as she gets, and the rain crashes around the borders of their refuge, not nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of her heart soaring with a fierce, wild joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tiu Zax](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tiu_Zax).
> 
> [Seff Hellin](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Seff_Hellin).
> 
> [Omwati](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Omwati/Legends).
> 
> ["Besalisk's Bellyful" hash](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/%22Besalisk%27s_Bellyful%22_hash).
> 
> [Vakiir egg](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Vakiir_egg).
> 
> [Caf](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Caf/Legends).
> 
> [Valin Horn](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Valin_Horn).
> 
> [Numa Rar](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Numa_Rar).
> 
> [Palace of the Woolamander](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Palace_of_the_Woolamander).
> 
> [X'us'R'iia](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/X%27us%27R%27iia).


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute and I do apologize— for that, as well as for extending the fic by one more chapter _yet again._ These crazy kids will be the death of me :') I sincerely hope that these 4,088 words of fluff and smut go some way towards making up for the long hiatus. I've already started writing the last chapter so hopefully it won't take me another hundred years to update sdfsghk <333

They make out for, like, _ages._

 

And it's kind of awesome.

 

Scratch that— it's actually really, really _wow._

 

Kissing Ben is the best thing Rey's ever done in her life, even if the wind's sending sprays of ice-cold raindrops into their temporary shelter to scatter all over their already drenched forms and the rough edges of the temple's myriad woolamander carvings are digging into her back and there's a tiny part of her that wishes she were a little better at the whole thing— that her teeth didn't keep accidentally snagging at the swell of his bottom lip and that she didn't keep having to come up for air, taking great big gasps before devouring him all over again, all messy and fierce and _wanting._

 

All those minor inconveniences, they pale in comparison to the frankly _unbelievable_ sensation of Ben's body pressed against her own, as well as the faint, lopsided grin that never seems to leave his face as he kisses her over and over again. They're so new at this that they keep losing the rhythm and mulishly plowing through until they find it once more, and then Rey manages to do _something_ with her tongue, some hot, slick slide that makes Ben _groan_ into her mouth, his palm sliding lower to cover her left breast in response to an instinct as old as humans, as old as time itself—

 

His grin _does_ waver, then. They both look down, panting fit to burst. He'd managed to shove her vest aside in his unthinking haste and the white tunic underneath is soaked through with rainwater and her nipple is, like, _right there,_ clearly visible through the now translucent material and all pebbled from the cold.

 

The only thing more crimson than Rey's blush at that moment is Ben's, but that doesn't stop a hungry, almost wolfish look from filtering into his dark eyes. It doesn't stop him from experimentally running the pad of his thumb over the hard little bead in a light yet deliberate touch that's fire and static all at once, that frees something caught between a whimper and a moan from her throat, and it's as if hearing that sound is enough to shatter Ben's tenuous hold on his self-restraint and he bends down with a growl and—

 

_"Ben!"_ Rey all but yelps his name as his lips close around her nipple and suck roughly through the fabric. The sharp pleasure is too much, too sudden— her knees buckle and she collapses against him, shaking and overwhelmed and something that's perhaps close to panicked, she'd never even _kissed_ anyone until just a few minutes ago, she hadn't known it was possible to feel like this, like she's going to die if he continues _or_ if he stops—

 

He braces her in his strong arms, pressing soothing kisses to the crown of her head as his heartbeat thunders next to her cheek. "Sorry." His voice is a low, unsteady rasp, his breathing harsh and shallow against her hair. "Got carried away— been wanting you for months, _fuck—"_

 

He's speaking in _fragments._ Ben, who is probably the most eloquent person Rey knows, has momentarily lost the ability to create full sentences _and_ he's swearing— she can't help but feel just the tiniest bit proud of herself, and also even more turned on than she already was.

 

"It's all right." She pulls back slightly to dimple up at him. His jaw's gone slack and his pupils are blown wide with desire and the sight makes her head spin. "If you're very good, I might let you do it again."

 

Ben's eyelids flutter shut. His mouth slants over hers once more and this time his hand wanders further south, palming the curve of her backside and _pinching,_ just hard enough that she squeals against his lips.

 

"Brat," he murmurs affectionately as she giggles, breathless and dazed and her heart aglow.

 

The rain doesn't seem like it's going to let up anytime soon. In all honesty, Rey wouldn't have minded staying under the temple's roof and kissing Ben senseless for a little while longer, but they _do_ have a schedule they need to follow. He grabs her hand and they make a run for it, the deluge battering their forms all the way to the clearing behind the Palace of the Woolamander where the _Millennium Falcon'_ s been stashed. Since there's every chance that conditions can worsen at this time of year, they take off while there's still some semblance of visibility to be had, Rey buckled into the co-pilot seat and Ben expertly steering the freighter through sheets of rain and howling wind. The _Falcon'_ s hull rattles worryingly as it soars up into turbulent, lightning-streaked skies and then through layers of burning ozone, and Ben doesn't relax until they're in the black, floating amidst the bright celestial wastes of the Gordian Reach.

 

"What a piece of junk," he grumbles.

 

"Oh, don't start, she's perfectly fine," Rey admonishes despite the fact that her nerves had begun to fray at that last rocky patch, when it seemed like the storm would tear the old ship apart.

 

Ben quirks an eyebrow to let her know that she's not fooling anyone, then punches in the grid coordinates for the Yavin Bypass. "Get out of those wet clothes and take a hot shower before you catch a cold."

 

Rey stares at him. Her mind had gone in a completely different direction at the first set of instructions and she's finding it impossible to switch gears, and it's not long before the double meaning dawns on Ben as well— he coughs, the tips of his ears flushing red once more as he studiously avoids her eyes.

 

"That's— that's for later," he says, all stuttering and quiet. "I mean, if you want— we don't have to—"

 

"I want to." She's never been so quick to assure anyone of anything before. "I really, _really_ want to."

 

"Stars, Rey." His gaze is still focused on the dashboard but, judging from his expression, he's either about to have a heart attack or conquer the galaxy in her name. She likes it— likes being responsible for that look on his face.

 

Rey leaves the cockpit with a spring in her step and makes her way to the crew's quarters. The _Falcon'_ s main corridor is rusting in places and she can _definitely_ see a few bolts coming loose, but it's a loved ship, for all that. Homey and full of history at the same time. There's a marked absence of dust buildup even though Han had left the _Falcon_ on Yavin 4 more than a year ago, and it warms Rey's heart to imagine Ben routinely cleaning the freighter despite his contempt for it. Maybe he gets Artoo to help him out.

 

She deposits her pack on the floor of the first bedroom that she comes to and is in and out of the 'fresher in fifteen standard minutes— which is ten minutes more than what she usually allocates for hygiene and grooming. Okay, so _maybe_ she washes her hair more thoroughly and scrubs at her skin harder than she normally does, but it doesn't have to mean anything. They'd hiked through a muddy jungle, after all.

 

_Ah, yes, and I suppose some of that mud got into your mouth,_ her sardonic inner voice quips as she brushes her teeth in front of the mirror.

 

Rey scowls at her reflection. All right, _fine,_ so she wants to be all clean and nice-smelling for Ben, shoot her—

 

_Literally no one wants to shoot you. You're talking to yourself._

 

Rey decides with a huff that she has better things to do than fight with her reflection. She throws on a new tunic and pair of leggings, then pulls her hair into a half-ponytail before exiting the 'fresher. She's all set to rejoin Ben in the cockpit when she hears him moving around in the room next to hers, his heavy footsteps followed by the gurgling of the pipes.

 

It makes sense that he'd want to put the ship on autopilot and take a shower as well, but it _also_ has the unfortunate side effect of her picturing him naked, water sluicing down his bare collarbones and that massive chest, trickling lower and lower still, his pale, muscular form enveloped in clouds of steam that leave little to the imagination...

 

Rey sits down on the edge of the narrow bunk, feeling absolutely _winded._ She has to get a grip— with the two of them all alone in such close quarters, adrift in the vast silence of space, it won't take much for him to catch the whisper of her thoughts and realize that he's being perved on.

 

Meditate. She needs to... meditate. Yeah. Never mind that her last attempt had ended with her fingers slipping into her panties as she desperately fucked her own hand to orgasm, trying not to make a sound in the bedroom she grew up in. She can _do_ this.

 

Rey closes her eyes.

 

And spends the next twenty minutes failing abysmally at meditation.

 

It's not _completely_ her fault. With no other distractions, was it any wonder, really, that her mind would stray to the kisses that she and Ben had shared earlier, to the memory of his big hands on her body and his mouth on her breast?

 

No, this is _Ben'_ s fault. He's turned her into some kind of— of horny _monster._

 

Into a _bad girl._

 

Rey's eyes fly open. "Nope," she says out loud. She won't go down that road. She's seen enough contraband holos to know where _that_ leads.

 

She all but stomps back to the cockpit, where Ben is in the pilot seat once more, all showered and changed into a black shirt and dark trousers. He turns at her approach, the diamantine glow of a million stars woven through his lush hair and reflected in his brown eyes, and her breath catches in her throat. Because she's known him almost all her life, it's sometimes so easy to forget just how _handsome_ he is, until moments like this creep up on her and wallop her over the head with all the jarring might of a sledgehammer.

 

"We've got an hour's worth of sublight crawl left before hitting the Yavin Bypass," he says. "From there, it's hyperspace all the way up to the Braxant Run's new terminus. Unless you want to take a rest stop somewhere— long hauls can be quite taxing."

 

"We're on a tight schedule," she reminds him stiffly. Heartbreakingly gorgeous or not, he's the one who's transformed her into this mess of hormones and nerves and she can't forgive him for it just yet.

 

Ben cocks his head, subjecting her to that intense Organa scrutiny. Whatever he sees on her face appears to both delight and amuse him; a faint smile dances at the corners of his mouth.

 

"Come here," he drawls.

 

Rey begrudgingly marches over and Ben wastes no time in pulling her into his lap, the seat tilting backwards at their combined weight until he balances her pressed-together thighs atop his just right, one hand settling at the curve of her waist, her back snug against his chest.

 

"What's got you so cranky?" he asks— no, _cajoles,_ the words muffled as he kisses them into her neck.

 

To Rey's very great annoyance, she can't remember why, her brain short-circuiting with each brush of his lips on her skin. "I forgot," she admits.

 

She feels rather than sees his smile widen. He's smiled more often these past few hours than he normally would in _days,_ and that honestly already makes this trip already worth it despite how irritating he's being. And then he starts using his _teeth,_ nibbling softly at the slope of her neck, and Rey ceases to think anything at all. Who knew that the neck could be so sensitive, that these butterflies in her stomach could dissolve so quickly into melted heat, trickling down to the spot between her legs—

 

_"Rey,"_ Ben sighs as she turns in his lap to stroke his hair. From there it's the most natural thing in the world to tug at the soft locks, coaxing his chin upwards so that she can kiss him.

 

He tastes, she's pleased to note, like vanilla toothpaste.

 

The _Falcon'_ s mishmash assortment of droid brains whirs sleepily in the background and the dashboard lights flicker over their entwined forms as their kisses grow more heated. She's not exactly cognizant of the moment she decides to straddle him or the moment his hand snakes up to her breast— all she knows is that, soon enough, the hard length of his erection is rubbing insistently against her crotch through the layers of their clothing and he's playing with her nipple like he can't quite believe how it pebbles at his touch as he groans and pants into her mouth. Her arms loop around his neck, using it as leverage to pull him closer and to slide her growing wetness up and down the bulge in his pants, and it's so good, so very good, she never wants to stop—

 

The sensor blinks and beeps with a reminder that they're forty-five standard minutes away from the hyperlane.

 

Ben wrenches his mouth from Rey's and scowls at the dashboard like he wants to hack it into pieces. She'd have found it hilarious, except that she's itching to do the same thing. Damn ship, alerting them so they'll have time to ensure that they make the jump safely and all that.

 

Stretching out one long, lean arm, Ben reprograms the sensor to warn them when they're _fifteen_ minutes away.

 

"Now that we have half an hour to spare, whatever shall we do to kill time?" he asks with a slight smirk.

 

"I could go for a light snack," Rey starts to joke, and Ben's fingers squeezing her waist is the only warning she gets before he kisses her again.

 

*

 

They manage to tear themselves away from each other and make the jump without incident, ushering in the first hyperspace leg of their trip that will last several hours. Unlike during a sublight crawl, the cockpit can't be left unattended due to the high velocity and increased risk of collisions and missing their exit, so at least _one_ of them will have to be glued to the dashboard until they hit the Pinooran Spur— and for even longer than that if they decide not to take a rest stop and just punch all the way through to the Hydian and beyond.

 

Rey is practically _simmering_ in the co-pilot seat. Her neck is covered in bruises in the shape of Ben's mouth and her breasts are pleasantly sore from his teasing. And she is so, _so_ wet. It's the heavy, aching, overly sensitized kind of arousal. She's so horny she could _cry._

 

A sidelong glance at Ben reveals that he's not doing much better. His hair's a bedraggled mess—she couldn't stop running her fingers through it— and the pink flush that stains his cheeks continues down his neck, disappearing into the V-shaped collar of his black shirt. With a ragged exhale, he turns the autopilot back on and slumps in his chair, ever the picture of morose frustration.

 

Rey's gaze drifts to the damn _tent_ in his pants. A wicked idea unfurls, there amidst the starlines.

 

"So," she begins in a forcibly casual tone of voice, "we never agreed on who'd be doing the piloting. We were supposed to duel for it, yeah? But then the storm happened."

 

"We can't duel here." He glances around the cockpit. "Too much breakable equipment. The cargo hold is the most viable option, but that would mean leaving the dashboard unmanned."

 

"There are other ways to duel." And, by the gods, Rey _wishes_ she could purr like Alema— say the words all smoky and sultry in a way that leaves no room for doubt as to her meaning— but she's _not_ Alema, and so she ends up just sounding nervous. But _also_ determined, so at least there's that.

 

Ben's sweeping dark brows knit together. "Are you suggesting that we play Dejarik, or—"

 

"No."

 

"— There should be a sabacc deck around here somewhere, if you prefer cards—"

 

Rey unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs into Ben's lap, straddling him again. With a careless flick of her wrist, his own harnesses telekinetically fall away. Maybe that's the farthest thing from what the Jedi hoped she'd someday do with her Force powers when they took her in, but she doesn't particularly care right now. Not when Ben's holding her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other resting on her thigh.

 

"I'd much rather play something else." Even as she says it she has to wonder where the hell this bravado is coming from. The only possible explanation is that she's gone mad with lust. "It's a new game called _who can make the other come first._ Winner gets to be the captain."

 

At first there is only silence. Absolute silence, during which Ben stares at her with his mouth parted in surprise and her courage evaporates like a fine mist, replaced by sheer and utter _mortification._ What had she been _thinking?_ She attempts to scramble off of his lap in a bid to pitch herself out the nearest airlock but, suddenly, he's moving again, his arms tightening around her, locking her in place, lips curling in a predatory snarl before he kisses her with a burning hunger that she feels all the way down to her _toes._

 

_"Pateesa,"_ Ben half-chuckles, half-sighs when they break apart for air, "you are so, _so_ on."

 

*

 

And _that,_ long story short, is how Rey ends up with her tunic bunched above her breasts and her leggings on the floor, Ben's pants and boxers shoved down his hips, his cock hot and rigid against her bare stomach. It's not the easiest of positions they're in— her knees are wedged between Ben's legs and the armrests and she'll _definitely_ fall out of the chair if she's not careful— but they make it work.

 

Or, to be more accurate, they're too lost in each other to care if it works or not.

 

How can she even begin to describe it, the feeling of his mouth on her breast, his tongue laving at one nipple while he rolls the other between his fingertips? She gasps and keens and clutches at his hair, grinding her drenched panties against his length, thinking she can tip over the edge from this alone.

 

But it's not long before her competitive streak rears its ugly head. She's not going to pass up this chance to pilot the kriffing _Millennium Falcon._

 

Her right hand drops from Ben's hair to wrap around the base of his shaft and, _stars,_ the _sound_ he makes, like he's found the gates to some sort of blessed afterlife by way of choking on his own tongue— the tongue that he's quick to slip into her mouth in a devastatingly _filthy_ kiss as she struggles to encircle him with her fingers. He's _big,_ and while she knows enough to know that this is good, that it's what's desirable, she can't help the concern that flickers briefly through her system— how is he _ever_ going to _fit?_

 

Her fist tentatively moves up, then down, in an experimental pump. Ben shudders, kissing her harder than she thought would be possible. Emboldened, she does it a few more times and he's a mess, moaning in her ear, his large hands frantically darting all over her body like he can't touch her enough.

 

"How— how am I doing?" she asks breathlessly.

 

Ben rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. "Perfect," he mumbles as he palms her breast. "You're perfect—" He slips his free hand between their bodies, stroking her through her underwear, making her shiver and melt all at once— "and, fuck— _so wet—"_

 

"All for you," she says shyly, which earns her another bruising kiss, right before he turns her around in his lap so that she's perched on his left thigh, facing the transparisteel viewport and the field of starlines racing silver and bluish-black beyond. With his other hand cupping her breast and his sinful lips scattering kisses down her neck, he slides his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, gently exploring in haphazard circular motions that have her arching her back against his chest, whimpering even as she does her best to jack him off in turn, her palm now slick with the clear fluid leaking from his tip.

 

Rey's adrift in a haze of sharp and lovely sensations, but there's a part of her that she can't shut off entirely, some small and mean and nagging part that causes her to blurt out, "Played this game a lot, have you?"

 

She can't help it. He's so confident, so relentless, playing her body like a lyre. She has to _wonder._

 

"A few times," Ben replies and her heart starts to sink. Then he adds, a little gruffly, "With you. In my dreams."

 

She cranes her neck, catching his mouth in a sloppy kiss. The old chair creaks worryingly on its hinges before she rights herself again— rights them both, her fist traveling up and down his length with a renewed burst of determination, matching the rhythm to her skittering pulse.

 

"I dream about holding you like this, in my arms." Ben's chest rumbles with the ardent confession, his voice all low and rough like the words are being coaxed from the depths of his soul with each bob of her wrist. "About kissing you forever. I dream about how you'd blush when I play with your pretty little tits—" He tweaks her nipple for emphasis and she closes her eyes, tossing her head back against the plane of his broad shoulder— "About how good you'd feel on my cock—"

 

He slips a finger inside her, and the sound that she makes is almost _embarrassing_ for how lewd it is, this guttural, earthy cry that seems to resound throughout the cabin. His breath hitches in her ear as he rocks that finger into her with shallow thrusts, keeping pace with her fist around his erection.

 

"Ah, sweetheart, knew you'd be tight," he grits out, and it's a miracle she doesn't come right then and there.

 

She's close, though. Very close, and she should probably up her game if she wants to win.

 

With an eminent practicality borne of spending her early years scavenging on Jakku, Rey lifts her hand from Ben's cock. His garbled protest at the loss of contact tapers off into an amused snort as she spits into her palm, then he's off and moaning into her neck when she resumes her ministrations, a little harder and faster now thanks to the added slickness. _That'll teach you to laugh at me,_ she gloats as his hips cant instinctively towards her fist, nearly bucking her off the chair.

 

And then he manages to add a second finger, stretching her out at the same time that his thumb finds her clit, and all hint of smugness disappears as she screams his name and hurtles inexorably towards that point of no return—

 

In the end, it's not just Ben's hand down her panties that sets Rey off. It's also the sensation of his cock twitching in her hand, the wet warmth that spills down her knuckles, his groan muffled into her hair as he comes. She follows immediately, the edges of her vision whiting out in pleasure, the hyperspace field beyond the viewport rushing at her so that she feels like she's soaring through a river of stars.

 

When she returns to herself, Ben is pressing soft and soothing kisses to the line of her jaw. Rey brings her hand up to the cabin's illumination and it's a lazy kind of delight that thrums within her at the sight of his spend coating her fingers and, okay, so maybe it should have been gross, but— the thing is— it's _not._ She feels marked, in a way. She feels like she's his. And that alone is worth everything.

 

"I won," she announces sleepily, leaning back against his solid chest as she basks in the afterglow.

 

Ben's smiling as he nuzzles at her temple. He's the most relaxed she's ever seen him, and it's beautiful— as is the languid contentment in his voice when he replies, "So did I, captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Gordian Reach](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gordian_Reach/Legends).
> 
> [Yavin Bypass](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Yavin_Bypass/Legends).
> 
> [Braxant Run](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Braxant_Run/Legends).
> 
> [Pinooran Spur](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Pinooran_Spur/Legends).
> 
> [Dejarik](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dejarik/Legends).
> 
> [Sabacc](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sabacc/Legends).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Narrator voice* It did, in fact, take her another hundred years to update. But we are all done now and I can't thank you guys enough for sticking with me. This fluffy little fic has been an absolute joy to write, not in the least because I was writing it for one of my dearest friends. Ilysm, Robyn! I hope that this last chapter doesn't disappoint. ❤️

Ben and Rey end up taking that rest stop, after all.

 

"I think it's the power converters," she says as they make planetfall on the crowded, heavily industrialized trade world of Celanon, the _Millennium Falcon_ blinking through one of the many holographic advertising screens that light up the sky in a wash of neon hues. "They probably haven't been replaced since the Galactic Civil War."

 

Ben nods, eying the fuel gauge that had dipped worryingly low a few hours down the Hydian Way. "We can refuel and have some maintenance work done at the capital."

 

"Should get the cryogenic reserve cells looked at, too," Rey says briskly. "Who knows how old _those_ are?"

 

"Older than I am, probably."

 

"Ancient, then." She darts him a mischievous grin and he reaches over from the co-pilot seat to pinch her thigh.

 

Rey giggles, trying to kick Ben's hand away— but she obviously doesn't try very hard, considering that he's soon felt his way to the inside of her thigh, his large fingers brushing against the seam of her leggings—

 

The _Falcon_ runs smack into the frenetic whirl of air traffic above Celanon City, nearly colliding with a rusty _Lambda-_ class T-4a shuttle that looms up beyond the viewport. It's Rey's instincts alone that save them; she grips the yoke and pulls hard to the left, veering away from the oncoming ship whose Volpai pilot raises two of his four arms in a rude gesture as he lurches past them.

 

Rey glares at Ben, her heart hammering as his broad shoulders shake with silent laughter.

 

"This is also why we didn't notice we were low on fuel until it was almost too late!" she snaps. "You— you can't keep your hands to yourself—"

 

He scratches his head, his expression oddly roguish and bashful at the same time. "You weren't exactly complaining earlier."

 

Rey's cheeks heat up. He's got her there. His clever fingers had managed to tease two more orgasms out of her once they junctioned off at Tierell, but she supposes neither of them can be faulted for that— hyperspace gets boring after a while.

 

"Just put your hands where I can see them until we reach the docks," she sniffs.

 

Ben tips her a mock salute, and then— as she brings the ship to level with the city skyline— he places his hand on her knee.

 

"What?" He gives her knee an affectionate squeeze in response to the arch of her brow. "If you look down, you can see it."

 

Rey bites back a smile. It's a losing battle but, for once, she doesn't mind.

 

*

 

Celanon's eponymous capital is a sprawling metropolitan ring composed of several districts that teem with activity at any given hour of the day. The most prominent of these districts is the Spaceport, with its thousands of hangar bays and cantinas, repair shops, and cargo offices nestled within the skeletal frames of drab gray buildings that hug the city's southwestern rim.

 

Rey eases the _Falcon_ into a berth she'd selected at a docking bay labeled "economy." There are "trader" bays as well, but she suspects that the upgrade would be worth more pretty pennies than she'd be comfortable parting with. She and Ben make their way down the ship's ramp; he lets her walk ahead of him, his hands settled atop her shoulders as he steers her towards the portly human harbormaster who's waiting for them, foot tapping impatiently and datapad in hand.

 

"That'll be a hundred and fifty credits for an economy berth," he grunts without preamble. "Full payment upfront."

 

Rey winces. It's expensive but not completely unexpected— Celanon's the only major hub along the Spur, catering to travel-weary spacers and merchants who are doing business on the planet and have no choice.

 

"We also need to refuel and install new power converters," Rey says. "Actually— maybe we'll get the whole standard maintenance and restocking package along with a power plant overhaul. How much is it?"

 

The harbormaster taps something into his datapad, and then quotes a price that's literally _five_ times the going rate.

 

Rey's jaw drops, her eyebrows all but disappearing into her hairline. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

 

"Yeah, I get that a lot," the man deadpans. "But this is our pricing, and if you don't like it you can take a hike. Next spaceport's four hours away on Botajef."

 

Rey bristles. "This is _robbery!_ I could buy a brand new ship for that amount—"

 

"That might not be such a bad idea," he mutters, casting a censorious glance at the beat-up _Falcon._

 

As Rey vibrates with fury, Ben lets go of her shoulders and steps between her and the harbormaster, fishing a black-and-silver credit chip out of his pocket and handing it over with an aura of disdain.

 

The other man's demeanor changes. Such a color motif is assigned only to accounts with the kind of credit limit that would make many a lesser mortal faint. He swipes Ben's chip, saying, "Should take around three hours to give your old lady the works. I suggest grabbing a bite and a few drinks in one of the Spaceport's many lovely cantinas. In the meantime, can I interest you in an upgrade to a trader berth—"

 

"No," Ben says coldly, taking Rey's hand and leading her out of the hangar.

 

She follows in silence, feeling all sorts of dumb and— and _poor._ She has her own credit chip but it's an ordinary yellow one, connected to a savings account that's topped up every month with a meager allowance from the Jedi temple, and, stars, she'd tried to _haggle_ in front of someone who's a member of the black-and-silver club— but of _course_ Ben would be, he's technically the heir to the Organa dynasty and the vast funds that had remained even after their planet went up in smoke.

 

And Rey is just— just—

 

"I can always go back and beat the living daylights out of him," Ben says. "If you want me to."

 

She blinks up at him. He's _serious._ She shakes her head. "It's all right. But dinner's on me."

 

His grip on her hand tightens. "Rey—"

 

"Least I can do," she says, a little more forcefully this time.

 

"As you like to point out, that glorified trash compactor is _my_ ship, so it's only right that I pay for the berth and whatever work she needs done. You shouldn't feel obliged—"

 

"I can afford dinner for two!" she very nearly shouts. "I mean, it won't be five-star or anything, but—"

 

With a growl of frustration, Ben backs her up against the dingy wall of the bustling corridor they're traversing and kisses her soundly. Her hands are fisting into his shirtfront and pulling him closer before she knows it and— despite the mix of suggestive catcalls and groans of disgusts from the spacers passing by in a rapid, ceaseless stream— it's actually a very calming, reassuring kind of kiss. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach has lessened by the time he pulls back.

 

"Do you have _any_ idea how lucky I think I am that you'd even look my way?" Ben murmurs, nuzzling at her neck. "I don't give a damn about your kriffing _bank account._ What's mine is yours."

 

"Point taken." She hides her blush in his glorious hair until it subsides. "But I'm still paying for dinner."

 

He frowns, looking like he's about to argue before he apparently thinks better of it. "Fine, but we're not eating here. I shudder to imagine what sort of overpriced dreck passes for food in a travelers' hub."

 

"Isn't the whole planet basically a travelers' hub?"

 

"Some districts are better than others." He takes her hand again. "Come on."

 

*

 

Beyond the docks is the Spacers' Section, where the streets and alleyways are filled by a tightly packed assortment of open air markets and food stalls. Rey kind of loves it— the mouthwatering aromas, the lively music, the twinkling lights that decorate each kiosk. She and Ben are keeping a low profile— his lightsaber is hidden inside his black leather jacket while hers is tucked away in her bag— but he's still conspicuous, a head taller than everyone else and throwing dark looks at would-be pickpockets as he shoulders his way through the crowd until they find a stall with a vacant table.

 

Rey hands the vendor her chip, and soon she and Ben are going to town on crunchy ginger noodles seasoned with boontaspice and chili dumplings in a thick, savory stew. All around them people are eating, haggling, and chatting with one another in the purple-hued twilight, beneath the veil of hundreds, _thousands_ of advertisements for every product and service imaginable, all flashing across the sky in translucent pulses. Rey's in danger of getting a crick in her neck because she can't stop looking up— at least, not until she and Ben have finished their dinner and have made their way into the heart of the bazaar, where the colorful crowds and the goods on display provide a more than sufficient diversion.

 

There's a curio shop with bobble heads, crystal mood-vases, slip-sockers, and Bantha Smelling Salts. Beside it, a tentacled Quarren hawks naal thorn burners and audiobulbs that have obviously made the rounds through the black market while, a few stalls down, a chalk-pale female Echani with the most arresting silver eyes smiles at prospective customers over glass-bottled perfumes distilled from horrok lily, millaflower, jesmin, and leatherwood. The market's selling everything from scarves to sonic dishwashers to vials of bubble wort extract to dazzling Corellian flame miniatures to carapace knitters to strings of dried Felucian glasscaps. Rey doesn't actually _buy_ anything, but she's content to look around, with Ben watching in fond amusement as she indulges in free samples of herglic algae ice cream and freshly-squeezed blumfruit juice and observes demos of the more unusual products with wide eyes.

 

She stops the longest at a kiosk selling jewelry, her gaze lingering on a copper ring embellished with a small whirlpool opal cut in the distinctive, multi-rayed shape of a sunpetal flower. It's not the most elegant of accessories by any means, but the metal is a lovely coral hue and the cheap gemstone's colors shift every time she looks at it from a new angle. Her hand almost strays to the credit chip in her pocket but, fortunately, common sense prevails. She can't afford to waste good money on useless trinkets, no matter how pretty they are.

 

Rey forces herself to move on to the next stall. Ben hangs back, which— _fair,_ it's overrun with screaming children begging their parents to buy one of the numerous tooka dolls on display. Her back is turned to him when she checks her chrono and realizes it's time to return to the Spaceport.

 

They exit the Spacers' Section by way of the winding riverbank. Although there are plenty of people going for an evening stroll, it's still more peaceful than the marketplace, more dimly lit. The air is pleasantly cool and the advertising screens wreathing the sky are reflected in the water's surface in shards of distorted, rippling neon. As they walk, Ben quietly takes Rey's wrist and slips something cold and metallic onto her ring finger with his other hand.

 

_"Ben,"_ she says, half groaning from exasperation, half laughing from a joy that soon blossoms into overwhelming. She doesn't need to look down to know what's on her finger but she does, anyway, a reluctant smile springing to her lips at the sight of the whirlpool opal sparkling in the mirrored holo-light. "You didn't have to."

 

"I wanted to." His brown eyes are solemn yet warm as he gazes down at her. "It made you smile, and I'll always want that more than anything."

 

*

 

Rey doesn't actually express her gratitude until later, when they're back on the ship and cruising away from Celanon. They have an hour to go before they can make the jump, so she flicks on autopilot and wordlessly climbs into Ben's lap, wasting no time in kissing him hungrily until they're both flushed and panting.

 

"Thank you for my gift," she breathes against his lips.

 

"Don't mention it." His voice is a low rasp, tattered at the edges. He sounds half-mad with desire when he continues, "If you let me make you come again, I'll buy you a necklace to match."

 

Rey grins. She hadn't known it would feel this wonderful to be so wanted, by someone who's so handsome and kind and strong. "Ben," she says, kissing the tip of his nose, "I don't need a bribe to let you do _that."_

 

*

 

The _Millennium Falcon_ arrives at the Stratos Distribution thirty-two standard hours after departing from Yavin 4. They're a little behind schedule but Rey doesn't mind overly much— they have more than enough time to trawl for the mythical stillsails. It takes her all of thirty minutes to rig the vid equipment to the organic scanner so that the droid brain trinity will automatically start recording once it detects extraterrestrial lifeforms within a certain radius. And, just so she and Ben don't miss it, she sets up an alarm system as well.

 

She rebuffs Ben's attempts to help since there's only so much room at the cramped dashboard, and so he stares out the viewport while she works. His energy signature is pensive and, finally, he remarks, "This is the strangest sector I've ever been in."

 

"We _are_ in the Unknown Regions," she hums absentmindedly, preoccupied with tinkering. "Things are bound to get a little weird."

 

"This isn't _just_ a little weird."

 

Rey inspects the circuitry one last time, nods in satisfaction, then straightens up to see what Ben's talking about.

 

For several long moments, words fail her, and she regrets having been so cavalier at first.

 

As the _Falcon_ had crawled further into the Distribution, the empty blackness of space had given way to corridors of dust and ice asteroids, and forests of crystal fronds that are all that remain of ancient comets. They're floating through a field of ghostly sapphire while odd shadows lurk on the horizon, too far to trip the sensors but moving in ways only animals can move, slithering and flapping and curling in on themselves. They're not stillsails— those are said to be shaped like manta rays, and _these_ things seem to sport long forelimbs and leech-like bodies supported on short, thick legs. Rey's suddenly struck by the fact that no one else knows where they are, that the nearest inhabited world is thousands of light years away, that they're on an old freighter that's in danger of falling apart if someone looks at it wrong.

 

"Don't be afraid," Ben tells her.

 

"I'm not," Rey says. To her surprise, she realizes she means it. "I'm with you, aren't I?"

 

"I was talking to _them."_ Ben nods at the eldritch silhouettes in the distance. "Nothing in the galaxy is more terrifying than you are when you're riled up."

 

Rey snorts, but they do end up running checks on the _Falcon'_ s defenses and cranking the stealth package to maximum just to be safe. After a while, though, she starts to nod off, which is as good an indication as any that her survival instincts are telling her there's nothing to worry about. She yawns, big and gusty, and without further ado Ben scoops her up and carries her to the crew's quarters, one hand hooked under her knees while the other supports her torso and her arms are wrapped around his neck.

 

_Bridal style,_ Rey thinks, almost dreamily. She would normally protest— she can walk just fine, thank you very much— but he is so _warm_ and his chest is so _broad,_ perfect for snuggling up against. Her eyes drift shut and they never fully open as he sets her down on the bottom bunk, as he takes off her shoes and her vest so that she'll be more comfortable. By the time he curls around her, she's already fast asleep, safe and sound in his arms.

 

*

 

It turns out that Ben had been right and the long haul had taxed Rey more than she expected; she spends most of the next standard day sleeping or otherwise lazing around on the couch in the lounge area, her feet in Ben's lap as they read or play cards. He brews spiced nysillim tea to make their uninspired rations more palatable and introduces her to his favorite classic holofilms— she finds them dreadfully dull, but she loves the way his brow furrows in concentration as they watch, loves the animated yet oh-so-serious manner in which he discusses the best parts.

 

But, most of all, Rey just loves _being_ with Ben. Existing in the same space with him, letting the contented, balanced glow of his Force signature center her. Vacation suits them both, she decides— and it _is_ a vacation even though it hadn't started out that way. No lessons, no drills; simply the two of them learning who each other is outside of the Jedi Academy and who they are together.

 

More than once, she finds herself selfishly wishing that it could always be like this.

 

The alarm that Rey had installed goes off on their second morning in the Distribution, and it really couldn't have picked a _worse_ time. Ben had woken up hard against her backside and they're in the middle of making out on the narrow bunk with her hand down his pants when the shrill siren cuts through the air.

 

"Forget it," he grunts, his fingers closing around hers in a futile attempt to keep her fist where it is, pumping on his cock. "It'll record on its own, right? No need for us to check."

 

He sets his plush lips to the column of her throat, and Rey is so, _so_ tempted, but— "We came all this way to see the stillsails," she reminds him.

 

"Fuck the stillsails," Ben replies without even a second's worth of hesitation.

 

Giggling, she gently pushes him off of her and springs to her feet and races to the front of the ship, dressed only in the over-sized tunic that she'd worn to bed last night. And it's a good thing that she has the Force— a good thing that she can telekinetically deactivate the loud alarm with a flick of her wrist— because once she reaches the viewport she can't bring herself to look at anything else.

 

No trace remains of the shadowy, leech-like creatures that she and Ben kept seeing in the distance. Beyond the viewport— amidst endless oceans of cosmic blue dust and silvery ice— the stillsails are floating gracefully in the vacuum of space. There are five of them, each one already looming larger than most capital ships despite being miles and miles away from the _Falcon._ Their translucent, disc-shaped bodies and triangular fins shimmer with iridescent pastel markings in every color imaginable, their long, thin tails fluttering behind them like ribbons of pure starlight.

 

Rey feels rather than sees Ben enter the cockpit, hears his breath hitch at the wondrous sight spread out before them. The stillsails ripple and glide around one another in a slow dance amidst the celestial wastes, shedding veils of jewel-toned radiance as they move the way violins would sound. Ben embraces Rey from behind and she leans back against him, the two of them completely silent and transfixed, and she knows that she will never forget this ethereal, blue-lit moment, this unfurling at the edges, these hymns of grace.

 

"Ben." Rey finds her voice and it's strangely husky and she can't tear her gaze away from the stillsails, but she perseveres because the universe is great and beautiful, and there are some things that need to be said out loud. That was why the Vos holocron had opened for her. That was what the Force had wanted her to understand. "I love you."

 

Ben reaches for the hand bearing the ring he gave her and brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers. "I love you, too."

 

*

 

After the stillsails have moved on and Rey has the footage she needs, there's no sense in pushing her and Ben's luck and so they hightail it out of the Stratos Distribution, back towards the relative safety of the Braxant Run. They can't stop looking at each other, can't stop their fingertips from brushing over the dashboard as small, secretive smiles flit across both their faces, and it is with the _utmost_ relief that Rey leaps out of her seat once the autopilot announces that they're on an uneventful approach to the hyperlane, which will take the better part of two hours.

 

Ben follows at her heels and— yeah, they don't make it to any of the bunks in the crew's quarters. Instead, they start kissing once they reach the lounge area behind the cockpit, blindly tearing at each other's clothes as they stumble over their own feet and bump into the furniture and, before she knows it, Rey's flat on her back on the circular dejarik table, her tunic and underwear pooled on the floor along with Ben's shirt, and he's hunched between her legs with his soft lips marking a hot trail from her bare ankle to the inside of her thigh as he whispers feverish words of love against her skin.

 

Rey tries to respond— she really, _really_ does— but then those sinful lips of his are pressed to her entrance and he's kissing her down there the way he would kiss her mouth and she no longer knows what words are, no longer knows any other language apart from what her body sings for him. She yanks frantically at his hair as his tongue alternates between tracing patterns on her clit and delving inside her, appreciative moans rumbling deep in his throat and vibrating against her sensitized skin. Rey comes with a scream, with her toes curling and flashes of white splintering at the edges of her vision, and then Ben is rising above her, the glow of the ship's lights tangled in his rumpled hair and his sculpted torso an expanse of smoothest ivory, and he tastes like her when he leans in for another searing kiss.

 

It's so deliciously dirty. She keens into his mouth and he pulls away with a shiver, peering down at her with hooded eyes before he moves on to nibbling gently at her neck as he reaches down between their bodies to pry his erection out of his loose sleep pants. The tip of his cock grazes her folds and she hisses, canting her hips toward his in invitation.

 

"I'll pull out," he promises hoarsely. "Okay?"

 

He sounds like he'll _die_ if she says no. It's an amazing thing, to luxuriate in both the afterglow and the power that she wields over him— swiftly followed by the way her heart melts when he suddenly adds, as if he's belatedly realized the gravity of what he's asking of her, "But we don't have to—"

 

Rey tugs at his hair again, tilting his chin up so she can kiss him once more. "I want to." Her own hand slides down to help him notch himself at her entrance, and then he is instinctively pushing forward with a strangled groan and she is—

 

_Stretched._ That's the best way to describe it. He fills her, leaving no part untouched. It stings a little and, as far as foreign sensations go, it takes some getting used to, but then he's holding her hand in his, the sunpetal ring cool between their fingers, and he is being so heartbreakingly gentle as he rocks into her, his broad frame quivering with restraint. She closes her eyes and surrenders to the feeling, letting it all unfold, letting her hips move of their own volition, letting herself savor the press of skin on skin and Ben's measured breathing in her ear.

 

_Too_ measured, come to think of it.

 

"Ben," Rey says, her eyes flying wide open, "are you— are you trying to _meditate?"_

 

He freezes. She can't see his face because it's buried in the crook of her neck, but she _hears_ the frown in his voice when he stiffly tells her, all injured dignity, "If you must know, this is my first time and I would quite like to make it last longer—"

 

Rey bursts out laughing. She kisses that large hand of his that's holding hers, then she kisses his bare shoulder and then his neck. He thrusts into her a bit harder at that, and there's something _petulant_ about it that makes her laugh even more.

 

"You're a brat," Ben grumbles.

 

"I love you," Rey says sweetly, giving her hips an experimental little swirl that makes his grip on her hand tighten as his cock twitches within her inner walls. And then he is moving again in earnest, and her giggles are tapering off into quiet gasps as the delightful friction builds her up again, slowly but steadily, the dejarik table creaking with each shift in weight...

 

It's when Ben tweaks her nipple between thumb and forefinger that Rey hits a second climax that's softer and sharper all at once. He mutters filthy praises into her skin as he fucks her through the aftershocks, talking about how sensitive her tits are and how prettily they bounce, each thrust and dirty word drawing out her pleasure until she's floating on an endless wave.

 

It's not long before Ben slips out of her, leaning in for another sloppy kiss as his hand moves up and down his shaft in desperate strokes. Rey's too blissed out to do anything but sigh happily into his mouth as his come spills all over her bare stomach, too dazed to do anything but welcome the weight of him as he collapses on top of her, sweaty and satiated and—

 

— _And mine,_ she thinks, running a soothing hand down his back. _All mine._

 

"You do realize," Ben says after a while, his tone wry but underscored by a drowsy contentment that sets Rey's heart alight, "that I'm never going to be able to play dejarik without getting a hard-on ever again."

 

"Good," she quips with a grin. "Maybe I can finally beat you at it."

 

*

 

A few days later, the starlines vanish and the lush green world of Yavin 4 appears before them in the black.

 

"I'm not sure if I want to go home just yet," Ben remarks from the co-pilot seat, a wistful note in his voice.

 

Rey thinks it's something to be treasured, that the temple has become as much of a home for him as it is for her. They've both come so far from the lost and lonely children they'd been more than a decade ago, when he'd held his hand out to her in the desert and promised her a better life. And it _is_ better, it's more than she could ever have hoped for once, but she finds herself disagreeing with his statement just the slightest bit.

 

"My home is wherever you are," she tells him quietly.

 

The line of Ben's mouth softens. He rests his hand on her knee, and together they make planetfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Celanon](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Celanon/Legends).
> 
> [Cryogenic reserve power cell](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cryogenic_reserve_power_cell).
> 
> [Celanon City](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Celanon_City).
> 
> [Lambda-class T-4a shuttle](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lambda-class_T-4a_shuttle/Legends).
> 
> [Volpai](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Volpai/Legends).
> 
> [Tierell](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tierell).
> 
> [The Celanon Spur](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Celanon_Spur/Legends).
> 
> [Botajef](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Botajef/Legends).
> 
> [Credit chip](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Credit_chip/Legends).
> 
> [Ginger noodles](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ginger_noodles).
> 
> [Boontaspice](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Boontaspice).
> 
> [Chili dumpling](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chili_dumpling).
> 
> [Celebrity Bobble Head](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Celebrity_Bobble_Head).
> 
> [Crystal mood-vase](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Crystal_mood-vase).
> 
> [Anorelgan slip-socker](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Anorelgan_slip-socker).
> 
> [Bantha Smelling Salts](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bantha_Smelling_Salts).
> 
> [Quarren](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Quarren/Legends).
> 
> [Naal thorn burner](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Naal_thorn_burner/Legends).
> 
> [Audiobulb](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Audiobulb).
> 
> [Echani](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Echani/Legends).
> 
> [Horrok lily perfume](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Horrok_lily_perfume).
> 
> [Millaflower](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Millaflower).
> 
> [Jesmin](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jesmin).
> 
> [Leatherwood](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Leatherwood).
> 
> [Sonic dishwasher](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sonic_dishwasher).
> 
> [Bubble wort extract](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Bubble_wort_extract).
> 
> [Corellian flame miniature](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corellian_flame_miniature).
> 
> [Felucian glasscap mushroom](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Felucian_glasscap_mushroom).
> 
> [Herglic algae ice cream](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Herglic_algae_ice_cream).
> 
> [Blumfruit juice](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Blumfruit_juice/Legends).
> 
> [Whirlpool opal](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Whirlpool_opal).
> 
> [Sunpetal](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sunpetal).
> 
> [Tooka doll](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tooka_doll/Legends).
> 
> [Spiced nysillim tea](http://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Spiced_nysillim_tea).


End file.
